


Purgatory

by earthphoenix (roughknuckles)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afterlife, Canon Death, Canon Gay Relationship, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-29
Updated: 2009-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 41,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roughknuckles/pseuds/earthphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After-life as a timey-wimey ball of of magical stuff.</p><p>Gellert needs to come to terms with his past, that he mustn't blame Albus for any failures, but to blame himself. This will be extremely difficult for him, as he is accustomed to being unapologetic for his brilliance and behaviour. He needs to consider the serious effects of his words and deeds. Meanwhile, Albus must forgive himself regarding past mistakes and the enduring guilt he has carried with him regarding the death of his sister. To do this, they are trapped in Purgatory (a village of trapped souls) until they achieve these goals and thus capable of ascending to higher enlightenment (Paradise).</p><p>Other canon deaths are accounted for in Purgatory, but the focus is not on them or what they have to learn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

> _Voldemort raised his wand, his black robes billowing back to reveal a pale, thin forearm. “Tell me where the Elder Wand is, or I will kill you!”  
>   
>  “Kill me then. You will not win, you cannot win! That wand will never, ever be yours-”  
>   
>  Voldemort growled in frustration and there was a flash of blinding green light._  

*                    *                    *

Grindelwald fell back across his bed with a smile.  
  
Then breathed out with a sigh.  
  
Dead people did not breathe.  
  
Sitting up, what first caught Gellert's attention (other then being alive) was the soft stream of morning light coming through his bedroom windows. Whereas moments ago his tower in Nurmengard had been engulfed by fog.  
  
Moving off the bed, Gellert walked slowly towards the light and pulled back the golden-orange curtain. He had a window. A proper window, with no bars and a ground floor view of ... grass. He would never have expected himself to be impressed by something so small and basic, but the sight of grass was an absolute thrill!  
  
Though once Gellert's golden-green eyes caught sight of trees and buildings and  _people_ , it became too much. Drawing the curtain closed, he backed away from the window until he was sitting on the edge of his bed.  
  
He had a window. That went _outside_. And there were  _people_ , outside.

*                    *                    *

In the midst of a instructing a middle years class about the art of transfiguring a quill into a baby chick, Albus stopped.  
  
Something brilliant and swift, like a bird at the window caught his attention and after a murmured apology to the class, he crossed the stone floor to the large panes of glass and pushed one open, almost as though he expected someone or something to be on the other side.  
  
Only the daylight, golden and shimmering on summer's greenery hovered outside. A warm, teasing gust of a breeze on the calm day swept through Albus's hair for just a second and then was gone.   
  
Albus pressed his fingertips to the thin pane and pushed it shut with a smart click of a latch.  
  
"Very good, class-" he murmured, hearing more than one little bird call out, "continue as you were. I shall be right back."  
  
He slipped out quietly for a much needed cup of tea.

*                    *                    *

Gellert twisted and stretched under his bed sheets, getting himself even more in a tangle. Bird chatter outside his window had woken him up from his deep sleep. He sat up and picked sleep out of his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger, focusing on his room. Nothing had visibly changed. But it certainly wasn't his prison. With this pleasing thought in mind, Gellert smiled and slipped out of bed.   
  
Last night the closet in his room had provided a single change of clothes, night robes, which he happily changed into after a long, much needed shower. This morning he was eager to test the magic of his closet again. Opening the door to the walk-in closet, Gellert discovered only a single article of clothing had been provided for him. Examining the golden-cream robes with a critical eye, Gellert slipped it on over his head and strode over to the nearest mirror to examine himself.  
  
The robes were lovely, but Gellert's reflection expressed disappointment, he looked old. Though the old man didn't feel his age, he wondered what happened to his face; it felt like he was looking at another man.  
  
Deciding that mirrors would be avoided from now on, Gellert walked barefoot to the front door and opened it - only to stop after a single stride into the hallway. To his left and to his right, there were other doors to choose from. He didn't like this. Returning to his room he closed himself in with a frown. He imagined the purpose of so many doors was designed as a test. Open the right door, you receive riches; open the wrong door, you are mutilated by wild animals.   
  
Forgoing such trials, Gellert opened up his bedroom window and after examining the frame, pulled himself up and over; climbing out his bedroom window as if he were a young boy again. Convinced he somehow cheated the terrible fate of too many doors, Gellert smiled to himself and began walking  _outside_ , for the first time, in almost one hundred years.

Cedric had come out a few minutes earlier. Dressed in his own robes, and levitating a stack of books ahead of him with his wand, he had paused on the street as the old man slipped out of his window. His concentration didn't lapse so much as to drop the books, but he couldn't help staring just a bit. Cedric wondered for a minute what the man would have done if his room hadn't been on the first floor.

Brushing his hand down the front of his robes, he straightened the fabric. His toes curled in the grass and he shifted his weight from foot to foot, almost in a child-like wiggle of excitement. The blades of grass tickled his feet and he grinned, looking up to see a handsome young man levitating books, with a  _wand_.  
  
" _Fantastisch._ " Folding his hands behind his back he took a few steps forward, speaking English with a light German accent, "Young man, you can tell to me where I am?"

"Of course, sir." Cedric said, smiling. "This is The Village. My name is Cedric Diggory." He offered his free hand, the other still pointing his wand at the floating books.

"How polite." Gellert smiled, shaking hands with the young man, "My name is Gellert, and I do enjoy the grass here." He added, still letting his toes curl in the fresh green blades.

"It is pleasant. There is a park as well, though you may want to get shoes for the street." Cedric said. "Have you just recently arrived here?"

"Yes. Is this general?" Gellert asked, sometimes his English vocabulary was imprecise.

Cedric wasn't entirely sure what he meant. "People do show up here, abruptly, yes. Rather like apparation. I've only arrived a few days ago, myself. Did you find yourself in your room, then?" He nodded towards the window that Gellert had climbed through.

"Fascinating." Gellert pondered this, looking up to the sky as if half expecting to see seams in the skyline, as if it were a rather large blanket pulled overhead. Returning his focus to the boy, Gellert nodded, "Yes! That is my room, just there."

Cedric nodded. "Everyone here seems to live in the hotel. Perhaps you'd care for something to eat? There is a cafe nearby with good food."

"What a sweet young man-" Gellert grinned, linking his arm with Cedric, "Taking me out to eat vhen we only just met."

Cedric found himself blushing for some reason he doesn't really understand. "Oh, it's no trouble. We have to look out for one another and all that. Perhaps we could stop off and pick up some shoes for you in all."

"Quite right!" Gellert agreed, looking at the young man in profile, "Good Englishman, very thoughtful."

"Oh, it's no trouble." Cedric said, leading the way. "We all have to pull together."

"Now then, you are English. All English go to Hogwarts, yes?" Gellert asked as if he were Cedric's long lost friend who was catching up on his life these days.

"Well, yes, I do." Cedric said, surprised. "Or rather, I did. You are a wizard, then?"

"Hogwarts is a very fine school, very fine. What is-, what was your favorite subject?" He did not comment on being a wizard. He was still one, of course. Just an extremely out of practiced one.

"Oh it's difficult to say." Cedric said. "Everyone is mad about Flying, of course. If I had to pick something after first year, I'd likely say Transfiguration." The truth was that he liked it all, but Cedric had learned that was often an unpopular answer. People either thought he was being impertinent or just that he was weird.

"Lovely." Gellert said, determining if he should be jealous or not of this handsome young boy having Albus's attention, "When you were a student, did professor Dumbledore still teach this class?"

"Professor McGonagall teaches Transfiguration now, though Professor Dumbledore did teach it for a long time." Cedric said. "He was the Headmaster of Hogwarts when I was there. You know him, I take it?"

No reason to be jealous, after all. Gellert gave the young man a friendly smile, "Long ago, I knew him, the Great Albus Dumbledore. I am very old, you see." He mentioned, as if it weren't obvious.   
  
"Now Cedric, if you are no longer attending Hogwarts, where are you going with all these books?"

"Well, I'd not properly finished." Cedric said. "I'm only starting my sixth year, and there is a magic school here, also." He smiled. "Several of the people from Hogwarts are here as well. Students, professors - even Professor Dumbledore is here. He was one of the first to come see me after I arrived- most kind of him."

"Indeed!" Gellert remained cheerful, "So grown up, so  _tall_  for one so young!" Though he kept his arms linked with Cedric all the more firmly, he was going to keep close hold upon the boy who had Albus's prompt attention. Being Albus Dumbledore's fond and favored boy was not an ideal position for Cedric to be in with present company.

"Yes, well, thank you." Cedric said, coloring again. "Let's see to getting you those shoes."

Though Gellert didn't mind walking around barefoot, he allowed Cedric to make the shoe purchase for him.

*                    *                    *

Stepping out of the shop, Gellert tapped the heel of his new boots against the brick roadway. "Now then Cedric, allow me to guess what house you were aligned with. Albus explained it to me once ... allow me to guess."

"Very well, then, if you like." Cedric said, smiling. He has been paying attention, though. Gellert is about Dumbledore's age, though of course it's hard to judge these things, and he knows him well enough to use his first name.  _Perhaps they knew each other growing up, or met at school._

"Yes!" Gellert was thrilled that Cedric wanted to play his game. "Now then-" He considered the traits he had come to discover during their short time together. A Slytherin would have been interested to speak with him, only after knowing who he was. A Slytherin would not have stopped to talk with a stranger who had no immediate value. Not Slytherin.  
  
They two continued to walk, while Gellert went to work on his puzzle. A Gryffindor might not have cared about the actions of an old man, though might have been amused to see him climb out the window. A Gryffindor though, would likely have been a bit more guarded with his information. But this Gellert could not be certain of.  
  
A Ravenclaw would have cited every subject as their favorite. Or else be familiar with their history enough to recall a German tyrant by the name of Gellert. A Ravenclaw would have remained indoors with their books, and not ventured outside.  
  
However, a Hufflepuff seemed to fit this boy's personality. Polite and genuinely caring. An academic, though not overly so. Cedric seemed to express a form of endearing innocents, not yet indifferent or jaded to the world around him. "A Hufflepuff!" Gellert finally announced, "Yes?"

Cedric nodded, pleased. "Yes, you've gotten it in one, sir." He knew very well that a lot of wizards looked down on Hufflepuff, but Cedric was as proud of his house as anyone else. They didn't have the reputation of Gryffindor for bravery, Slytherin for cunning, or Ravenclaw for brilliance, but Hufflepuff was an honorable house. Certainly the Sorting Hat had no problem seeing Cedric as a Hufflepuff, even though Cedric had often thought that his father would have preferred something more glamorous.

"Lovely." Gellert put his hand on Cedric's shoulder, he had not walked so much in years. "I suspect you have many friends! The top of your class, perhaps? Prefect, at least!"

There was that blush again. "I did reasonably well, yes. I was made a Prefect in fifth year, and I was the captain and Seeker for the house Quidditch team."

"Busy young man- Seeker! Very lean ... very strong! The women must have been everywhere over you." Gellert smiled, waiting for his assumptions to be confirmed, or corrected. If the implication of women was corrected to men, then there would be certain trouble ahead for Cedric.

"I suppose I had my share of ... attention, sir." Cedric said, smiling a little. "There was always so much to do, though ..."

Gellert was not overly comforted by this response, "Tell me, Cedric. Tell me all that you would do."

They arrived at the cafe, Cedric leading Gellert inside and finding a table. "Oh, the usual sorts of things, sir. Classes, studies, Quidditch practice and matches. Of course, being a Prefect took more time as well. If I could find enough time in the midst of all that to eat and sleep, it was enough." He indicated the menus, picking one up. "The food here is pretty good. Nothing magical that I've seen, but good all the same."

Gellert tossed his silver-white hair back, behind his shoulder as he sat opposite Cedric. "I pose a question, you are certain to have asked of you all the time." He opened the menu and began to examine his options. Being allowed to decide for himself what he was going to eat was a certain thrill. "What sort of occupation do you wish to pursue, once you graduate?"

"I'd thought of playing Quidditch professionally." Cedric said. "My father always wanted me to come work in the Ministry with him. I'm not certainly, to be honest, sir. If I did well enough on my N.E.W.T.s, I suppose I would have thought about applying to become an Auror." He smiled, a little sadly. "I don't suppose that matters now, though."

"This is horrible." Gellert sighed with a frown, only now understanding their situation; the boy was already dead. So was he. He did not wish to draw the next conclusion, which was that Albus was dead as well. "Such a waste." He shook his head.  
  
"I miss my family, and I wish that I had been around for them and to help my friends. Apparently things went badly after I was killed. Voldemort's doing, I expect. I've been told that he gave to order to kill me, and there were many more that followed."

Gellert tisked with a huff, sitting back. "Voldemort. Silly insect of a man." Almost too annoyed to eat. Almost.  
  
"We'll, we can still enjoy cake, can we not? It sounds as through many of your friends are here, this is good."

"You're entirely right, sir. This is a good place to be. There's food, hospitality, the companionship of friends. There's even a Quidditch pitch, and I'm getting to finish school after all. A good place." Cedric said again, as much to himself as to Gellert. Cedric added, smiling again. "He didn't win, in the end. Harry and the others sorted him out and sent him packing."

“Where is he vacationing? Who would be silly enough to let him into their country?” He was annoyed,  _I was not allowed to pack!_  Gellert pouted.

Cedric chuckled. "Forgive me, sir, I spoke figuratively. They destroyed him, and good riddance if you ask me."

“Oh.” The English had such strange phrases. “Indeed.” Gellert lifted his water glass in place of having something proper to toast with.

Cedric raised his glass of water as well. He wasn't the sort to normally drink to someone's death, but Voldemort had it coming if anyone did.   
  
"There are many interesting people here, from different places, different times. There's a forest, a lake, even a beach."

"Beaches!" Gellert brightened, "Is it a very good beach?" He asked, because the Brittan's were very well versed in beaches, they were an island, after all. He would have to see it for himself, regardless of Cedric's answer.

"I haven't actually gone there myself, yet." Cedric said. "I'm sure it's fine, though. Are you ready?" He placed his order, settling on a simple sandwich and some tea.

Gellert ordered an omelette, the bowl of chilli and a slice of their pie. Closing the menu and pushing it aside, he then asked in addition for a cup of red tea. "You are young, you must enjoy these things!" He said to Cedric, though after he did, wondered if dead people aged in such places.

"I haven't had much experience with beaches, sir." Cedric said. "None, in fact. I take it that you enjoy them?"

"Maybe it is a condition of appreciation of which you do not have. Germany you see, has very small beach." Gellert attempted to explain. "But now you have time to try many new things."

"Yes, there's time now." Cedric agreed. He supposed that he would live out a normal life as possible, since it had been taken from him the first time, so abruptly. "For now, I'll do my best to finish school. After that, I suppose I'll just have to see."

"Good attitude." Gellert nodded with approval, "Though it does not harm anyone to have a plan."

"I can't argue with that." Cedric admitted. "And you, sir, do you have a plan?"

"Clever young man, Cedric." Gellert laughed, delighted with their conversation - with having  _any_  conversation at all.  
  
"I plan to ... eat good food, meet the other witches and wizards here, and of course ... surprise my old friend Albus with a visit." He winked with a nod, indicating to Cedric should not let on to professor Dumbledore of his presence, because he wanted it to be a surprise.

"This is a place of surprises, to be sure." Cedric said, smiling. "I am certain Professor Dumbledore will be greatly pleased to see an old friend once again. I promise I will not spoil the surprise."

 _Good boy_. "Very considerate, thank you!" Gellert smiled and sat back again as the waitress delivered their lunch, "Ah- wonderful, perfect timing."

Cedric thanked the waitress and took a couple of bites of his sandwich. It was amusing to watch Gellert dig into his food, like he hadn't had a decent meal in some time.  _Actually that may be the case, for all I know._ "It may interest you to know, sir, that there is also a nice bakery in town."

"Mmm-" Gellert licked his lips, supremely pleased. "I wonder if they construct strudel, or could be convinced to prepare stollen for Kristmas!" His eyes brightened with a golden shimmer while he methodically cut into his omelette, eating from one side of the plate to the other.

"I don't know, sir, but it can't hurt to ask." Cedric said. His own sandwich was tasty as well. "There is a Welcome Center which can provide a map of The Village and descriptions of the various shops and locations. The registry book at the hotel front desk will have the names of everyone currently staying, in case you want to look up any other old friends."

"This is useful. Thank you, Cedric."  
  
There was no one more important to contact then Albus Dumbledore, but he was certainly intrigued and would enjoy looking up some of Albus's friends, colleagues and former students. For educational purposes, of course.

"It's no trouble, sir." Cedric said, smiling slightly and taking a drink of his tea. "I expect you'll enjoy your time here."

For being dead at such a young age, Gellert found Cedric to be very optimistic. It was a worldly innocents he had no memory of ever having himself.  
  
If he were younger and still pretty ... well, innocent minds were meant to be opened and properly  ~~corrupted~~  educated.

*                    *                    *

Young students with their schedules in hand ran past an elder wizard in white and red robes, rushing to their next morning class while Gellert leisurely walked down the hallway, eyes wide and bright at all the movement and the feeling of magic in the air.  
  
After learning from Cedric during their afternoon lunch together that Albus was in The Village and teaching at the wizard school, he felt the need to surprise his old friend with a visit. What a surprise it would be, too.  
  
It was good that he didn't have a wand, though. Not that he and Albus would duel. At least not at school. And certainly not with wands. But the German born wizard had a certain forceful inclination to correct people when they were doing something incorrectly. Seeing young witches and wizards fail at rudimentary wand techniques irritated Gellert, as he simply wanted to confiscate their wands and show them how it is done properly. Though, resisted.  
  
He wanted to make a good impression for Albus.

Cedric was hurrying along to Advanced Potions, his usual stack of books floating just ahead off him. It wasn't a good idea to be late, unless one wanted to be a practice potion tester. He noticed Gellert moving along in the halls and managed to catch the old man's eye long enough to smile and nod politely at him.

Gellert raised a hand and waved with a wiggle of his finger tips, there were such pretty young things to behold here. But he did not stop Cedric for conversation, they both had their own business to attend to.

Remus was on his way to spending a free period outside when he spotted the older man strolling down the hall. He seemed similar to Dumbledore in that he radiated a kind of power, but that was where the similarities ended. Remus had to frown just a little bit. Dumbledore radiated warmth. This man did not.  
  
"Excuse me, sir," he said as they neared each other, "may I help you find something?"

"Very polite, young man." Gellert smiled, examining the brave young man's broken features, "But I am not lost."  
  
"Oh," he said, "I'm sorry. You looked like you were looking for something-"  
  
"Someone" Gellert corrected, "He is here somewhere, it's simply a matter of finding him." He added cheerfully, that was part of the fun, after all.  
  
"I may be able to help with that," he suggested, "who was it you were looking for?"  
  
"Albus Dumbledore!" He sing-songed the name playfully. "Tall man. Sparkly blue eyes. Outrageous fashion sense. English. Former ginger, you know."  
  
"Oh, yes." Remus frowned a little at this description of the headmaster, but he nodded. "Yes, his office isn't far."  
  
"You know him then?" Gellert asked curiously, "You are his student?"  
  
"Yes, sir," he said, "in The Village, and back home at Hogwarts. He's the transfiguration professor here."  
  
"Ah! Another student of Hogwarts, like bunnies you are ... all over the place!" Gellert laughed brightly, letting the boy show him.  
  
"It's the only school in the UK, sir," he said, "everyone goes there. It's the best." Even Remus had pride when it came to Hogwarts.  
  
"For Englanders, yes. Not all children go to such fine institutions! Some are privately tutored, you see, some do not go at all! It is an unjust world, at times."  
  
"Yes, I know," he said with a nod. They were nearing Dumbledore's office and he glanced up at the man. "May I ask your name, sir?"  
  
"Yes, you may ask! But I will only give you my name in trade!"  
  
"Remus Lupin, sir," he said, a bit alarmed by this man.  
  
Gellert gave pause at the name. It seemed like a horrific name for a child, his parents must have a very sick sense of humor.  
  
"Thank you for all your help, young Mr. Lupin. My name is Gellert Grindelwald."  
  
If Remus hadn't been so busy backing up, he might have thought the same thing about Gellert. But the name sent a bolt of shock through him. His eyes wide, he was already taking steps away. "Oh. Well- um, Mr. Grindelwald,"  _bloody hell!_   "Let me just get Professor Dumbledore for you."  
  
Gellert arched a thick eyebrow as he watched the young man back away. It was flattering that he might still be considered dangerous, in this state. And though the boy's magical history was clearly biased, he was impressed that the boy recognized his name. _I've not been forgotten_. "How sweet of you." He said quietly, letting the boy go.  
  
Remus managed not to stumble the last few steps and he knocked frantically on Dumbledore's door. "Sir? Professor? Sir?" He wanted out of this hallway with bloody Grindlewald.  
  
"Come in, Remus." Albus called out, buried in paperwork at the moment, writing three different letters at the same time. He did want to speak to the boy regarding the composition of midterm exams for each year, Albus usually wouldn't start on them so early, but he knew Remus would appreciate the time to prepare.  
  
Remus opened the door carefully and stood there for a moment, trying to figure out a way to introduce the other man without sounding like a crazy person. "You have a- um, guest? I guess. Someone to see you, sir."  
  
Albus looked up, and put down the quill at the look on Remus's face. "Remus?" Albus moved closer, he could only imagine two or three people that might inspire what Remus was feeling just then. None of them were guests he'd be pleased to see, especially here, in the school.  
  
Albus put a hand on Remus's shoulder, "Thank you Remus, can you do a favour for me? Walk out, do not look back, and inform the Headmaster that I have had to leave a little earlier than anticipated today. If you would be so kind to please supervise my remaining classes for me, and tell them that it is an in-class study period. Can you manage?"  
  
"Yes, sir," he said quietly, but he hesitated. "Sir-" he didn't want to leave him alone with the visitor. He couldn't help it. Obviously Dumbledore could take care of himself much better than Remus ever could, and he'd already dealt with Grindlewald once before. Certainly he could do it again. "Yes, sir," he said again, carefully backing out into the hall again.  
  
"Good- he's here!" Gellert pushed the door all the way open, stepping past Mr. Lupin only to find Albus standing right there.  
  
Albus Dumbledore's former lover and former prisoner stood still for a moment in quiet regard. Albus did not look like he ought. He looked ... old. Logically Gellert knew a great many years had passed since the last time he had seen Albus Dumbledore, but apart of him was still expecting to see his dark-rose colored hair.  
  
"Albus."  
  
This was the visitor Albus wanted to see the least.  
  
The door slammed closed behind Gellert and did not just lock, but fused solidly into the wall until there was no entrance or exit in Albus's office at all.  
  
"Grindlewald."  
  
It was Gellert. Gellert in some ridiculous looking old man costume, but even without the lyrical, mocking noise of his voice, Albus would have recognized him at once.  
  
"Of all of the deeply unwise choices-" he began, in a voice that put frost on the edges of his oak desk, "you've made in your life, I think that coming here, to the school into my office and terrifying one of my students may be the most foolish." Albus's eyes were dark now, and the sunlight seemed to shrink back from the windows. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was furious.  
  
Gellert glanced to the side, seeing that they were sealed in together. At this, Gellert slowly smiled. "Albus." The corner of his lips curled up familiarly. "I wanted to surprise you." He moved forward, stroking the tips of his fingers over the frost of Albus's desk, his long, skinny fingers melting the surface with unnatural warmth.  
  
Albus stepped forward again, glaring, and touched the frosted side of the desk, turning the entire thing to ice, trapping and chilling Gellert's wandering hand inside it, up to his thin wrist.  
  
"No." He said suddenly, sharply, "we're not going to do this here. How DARE you wander in amongst the STUDENTS!"  
  
Albus gripped Gellert's skinny forearm and the wizards apparated out of the school, as far from The Village itself as magic would permit them to go, leaving a broken, melting wreck of Albus's desk in his office, papers, books and candy strewn among the wreckage.  
  
"You are hurting me, Albus." Gellert said quietly, looking down at Albus's hand around his wrist. He looked up slowly, the space between them was almost liquid and distorted, as if there was either extreme heat between them or rippling water.  
  
Albus let go as soon as they arrived in the strange place where they'd landed - the very, very edge of The Village. Both wizards were certainly powerful enough to perceive the flux of transformation around them.  
  
"How many times, Grindelwald, has one of your victims called out that you were hurting them? And how often did that persuade you to stop?" Albus moved a distance away, his face impassive, eyes blazing, jaw locked, wand in his hand.  
  
"Still you lecture me?" Gellert sighed, bored.  
  
Folding his hands behind his back, Gellert walked forward, never taking his eyes off of Albus, "Cannot you use my name, Albus?"  
  
"Grindelwald is your name." Albus snapped, "That was of course how I remember it from the newspapers. As far as lecturing you, it appears you still have no idea how to behave without being reckless and boorish. Thus it appears to me, _Grindelwald_ , that you appear to need a lecture from whomever will give it to you."  
  
Albus was pacing, graceful and frighteningly focused on the intruder, like a lion eyeing a threat to his cubs through the grass.  
  
Gellert openly laughed, "You said give it to me. In English this means sex, does it not? Oh Albus, how I have missed you. You of course remember me before I made the papers!"  
  
Albus wondered, as Gellert smiled the same, bright, dazzling, mind-numbing smile he'd always had, if dead men could commit suicide.  
  
Probably not.  
  
"That is-" he said, hating himself violently for having to fight a smile at all, "the ... most ridiculous ... I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer, Gellert!"  
  
No. It wasn't Gellert. Damn him. This man, this old, disgusting, cruel, heartless, murderous wizard had been responsible for atrocities, for heinous crimes, for the worst humanity had to offer. He wasn't funny. Not even a little. Absolutely not.  
  
"As far as I'm concerned," Albus swallowed, feeling like a reluctantly responsible seventeen year old all over again, "nothing happened between us. Expect no leniancy from me due to a grievous error made in my youth, Grindelwald."  
  
It was the same smile.  
  
"Albus, if nothing had happened between us, then your cheeks would not color so." Gellert tossed his hair back over his shoulder, though it lacked its usual effect as he no longer had curls of blond hair.  
  
Albus tilted his head, watching Gellert with obvious amusement, but not lowering his guard.  
  
"That was ridiculous. Don't ever do that again. You're old now. We must discuss some ground rules if you've been sent here."  
  
Gellert gasped, pressed the flat of his hand against his own chest, "How cruel. Such a waste this body has become-" he half pouted, "However Albus, as it pains me to correct you, I will not be following any more of your dictated rules. You see" he smiled again, "I am not in prison any longer."  
  
Albus's eyes narrowed, "Yes, it happens to all of us. Youth, inexperience and beauty leave us for sober judgment, and wisdom. In my case, I consider it a more than even trade considering what the former brought me. As for prison ..."  
  
Gellert had a point. He had been sentenced to spend the rest of his life in Nurmengard, and if that life was over, his sentence was served, there was nothing Albus would be able to justly do to extend it, or to impose any sort of rules at all upon the former dictator.  
  
"What is the last thing you remember before coming here?" He asked sternly, not looking at Gellert who, as Albus knew, was a skilled legillimens ... Albus had taught him to be so over their summer together.  
  
"Dying." Gellert sing-songed. "A very rude former student of yours came to ask me some  _very_  personal questions." He raised his chin proudly, "I told him nothing, of course. The funny little thing, he didn't even have a nose, Albus!"  
  
"Yes," Albus said dryly, fixing Gellert with an exasperated look. "And as we know in order to be a proper evil overlord, one must be possessed of a striking profile otherwise whatever shall they put on the coins of the new world order?"  
  
Albus looked up to the heavens and began to pace again.  
  
"You have, technically fulfilled your sentence. There is nothing I can do to condemn you to another unless you are foolish enough to attempt anything of the sort here in The Village. It really is a lovely place, Gellert, undeserving of the destruction and madness your empire brought to the majority of Europe."  
  
Albus paused, his back to Gellert, contemplating a pond that shimmered with the constantly shifting limit of The Village on one side.  
  
"Why did you not tell Tom where to find the wand? I assume you knew where it would have been at the time."  
  
"Ah! You knew that he was looking for it then?" Gellert walked over, standing next to Albus, looking at the pond as well, wondering what was so captivating that was worth staring at.  
  
"It was not for him to have." He said coldly.  
  
"I thought you might have sympathized with his aims. The subjugation of muggles and wizard superiority were chief amongst his followers causes."  
  
Albus felt Gellert move closer, but refused to move away, thankful he wasn't still a young man who was moved by silly things like the proximity of the German wizard's nearness. Just standing near him would be enough to make Albus's limbs feel like they were floating and his head light.  
  
"His AIMS?!" Gellert frowned, truly indignant now, "He is a selfish little snake, not globally minded at all!" He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "I at least wanted to share! I at least had the idealism of a nation and the interest of our people at heart! Not some selfish quest for immortality. Uh- how USELESS!"  
  
Gellert grumbled in German, "The boy is a cowardly creature, not fit to lick my boots clean!"  
  
Albus raised a white eyebrow, "Does it disgust you then, that your legacy is and always will be that of the wizard who inspired his crusade? You must understand, Gellert, that outwardly, because of your actions, you appear no better."  
  
Gellert threw his hands up, stepping away from Albus. "I cannot help the inaccuracies of the history books. Perhaps if you had written a few chapters, the people would have gotten a fairer minded understanding of what I was attempting ... seeing as how we once worked together."  
  
Albus's expression darkened again, "Gellert!" he exclaimed, "when will you take responsibility for what YOU have done? Yes, we spoke of it, but did I not try to dissuade you from the very actions that have villanized you in the history books that you claim are so unfair!?"  
  
Albus fixed Gellert with a stare that was nearly sympathetic, "I warned you, again and again that violence would overshadow any social gains you intended to make. I warned you NOT to kill your opponents! So, truthfully, Gellert ... who made those decisions? Who gave those orders?"  
  
Gellert turned sharply, "I did not kill anyone, unless it was absolutely needed, I was not so wasteful with life!"  
  
"But you say I went too far?! You say that now, after I have already lost! If you thought it was so wrong, so doomed, why did you not come to find me sooner, Albus!? I listened when you spoke to me, did I not? But how can I listen when you are no longer at my side!?"  
  
Albus reached over and grabbed Gellert's arms, nearly shaking him like a lion might shake prey.  
  
"YOU LEFT!" he shouted, shoving him back. "You LEFT, and when you did that-" Albus had to take a deep, deep breath, "I think it's fair to say that you negated the right to my good advice, Gellert!"  
  
Gellert stumbled, grabbing at Albus's forearm to retain his own balance. His power and strength had always been in magic, not with crude muscle. He had been a small boy in his youth, but had become scrawny while in prison. He hadn't the strength to fight back like this. Without a wand, all he had were his words.  
  
Except he had no words just then. He swallowed dryly, his ear burning with Albus's anger.  
  
Albus let him go, gently, his blue eyes dropping to the ground.  
  
When he spoke, he sounded exhausted in every way, his usually pleasant voice dull as it had been in the years following Ariana's death and Gellert's flight.  
  
"There is nothing I can do to influence your actions, I have no say in your opinions, I am neither your friend, advisor, nor ... anything else. But if you have any scruples, any manners or decency within you- I strongly advise you steer clear of the school and it's students. Should you choose to return to the school, I will oppose you, and I cannot guarantee the mercy of those who know your cruelty only by reputation."  
  
Gellert turned, walking away, "Such things you have in your mind, Albus. I would not harm your children. I have already spoken with several of them. But if you say we are not friends, then I needn't listen to you any longer."  
  
Albus's hands curled into fists and he looked genuinely menacing for a moment before he closed his eyes and appeared to be counting to a very high number in his head.  
  
"Just stay away from the school" Albus said, deciding to draw a clear line around what mattered to him the most, "and if you ever do wish for any hope of something resembling friendship between us one day, do not attempt to get at me through 'my children'; as you call them. Understood?"  
  
Albus forced himself to look at Gellert evenly, as neutrally as possible which was wrenching at the moment for several conflicting reasons.

*                    *                    *

The old German wizard was not characteristically a recluse, though he had been forced into it for a great deal of time during his long life. He therefore enjoyed walking between the buildings in the small village, listening to conversations and meeting new people; Gellert found the magical boundaries that this place offered a comfort, he was self aware enough to know he needed direction at times and that if he had been sent anywhere larger or of infinite space and possibilities after his death, would have been too overwhelming.   
  
It was a sunny afternoon when Gellert's stomach tingled familiarly. Turning his head he breathed deeply, smelling food in the air. Smelling - what he could only remember as the distinct sweetness of Thai food. Grinning and following his nose, Gellert stepped into the restaurant that he had thought a few days previously had been a Greek tavern.

Just under a sparkling, fantastically colorful wall hanging of a lion sat an equally colorful older gentleman, reading a book at a table in the sunlight with a large glass of iced coffee sitting near his elbow and a plate of an exotic looking noodle dish he neglected in favor of his book.  
  
With the sun lighting his long, white hair and beard, Albus Dumbledore appeared quite relaxed where he sat, enjoying the quiet of a lovely afternoon.  
  
It was too good to last.  
  
With a manic grin, Gellert quietly approached, fluffing out his silver hair from against his neck, shaking the dull color away from his face. His long arm reached over Albus's shoulder and pulled the book away with a laugh, tossing it on the table as he walked around and took the empty seat opposite.  
  
"Albus! Still behind books to be hiding? Missing what is right in front of you!"  
  
 _Well, there went the proverbial neighborhood._  
  
Albus sighed, his blue eyes just as impassively patient as they might have been when dealing with a troublesome fifth year. Certainly the maturity exhibited by the former dictator was about the same.  
  
"Ah. What a surprise. I was afraid for a moment that you didn't feel like following me around The Village this afternoon. Whatever might I do with my time in that case?" He summoned the book back into his hand without a wand quite easily, fixing Gellert with a cool stare.  
  
"Oh Albus, no need to be afraid! You have always had my devoted interests! Now, don't be rude and put down your book and eat lunch with me!"  
  
Gellert opened the menu and began to browse the exotic selection.  
  
After the disaster that was their last encounter, which had ended in shouting and Albus being sorely tempted to physically hurt Grindelwald, Albus had decided to avoid Gellert's childish attempts to bother him and if avoidance was not enough, to treat him like a particularly irritating student.  
  
"I see," Albus said calmly, avoiding the merry look in the other wizard's green eyes. Playful or not, Dumbledore knew better than to allow himself to be baited.  
  
"Unfortunately," he said evenly, "I had just finished and was waiting for my bill to arrive. I'm afraid you'll have to eat alone, although I do recommend the Pad Thai."  
  
"What do you mean by this, finished? You have not bitten at this food at all!" Gellert leaned back in his chair, posture as perfect as he could manage, considering the years of physical neglect his body had endured. Gellert took Albus's recommendation and order the Pad Thai and a side of cold rolls and anything else that was fun to pronounce.  
  
Gellert, Albus knew, could speak English perfectly. He could do so better than most who had been raised in Britain as far as sentence structure and grammar went, and Albus had heard him on more than one occasion speak the language with any British accent he chose ... when it suited his needs to do so (or, Albus tried not to remember, when the blond wizard was mocking others to make him laugh).  
  
Sometimes, however, whether it was intentional or unintentional, Gellert's creative selection of English words was not only amusing, but heightened, rather than detracted from the meaning of what he was attempting to say.  
  
"I have-" Albus began, trying not to show any amusement at his old friend's malpropism, " _bitten_ this food many times. The portions are quite generous, and unlike some, I find no pleasure in eating until I feel sick."  
  
With food as with many other things, Gellert had no idea what the word moderation meant. If he loved something, he would not stop until every crumb was consumed ...  
  
Or he'd follow it around The Village for weeks on end ... a little voice in Albus's head pointed out.  
  
The little voice was quite quickly dismissed.  
  
"No? How tragic, Albus. Have you lost your taste for sweets at your age?"  
  
Gellert briefly considered tasting foods and chocolates, on Albus's behalf of course, in order to articulate their taste so that his old friend didn't feel left out. Though thought that this might be cruel and decided against it.  
  
"I still enjoy candy, Gellert-" Albus sighed, fighting not to roll his eyes at Grindelwald's usual knack for hyperbole. "I assure you, but I've come to learn that too much of anything can ruin the experience for good."  
  
Gellert's hair was a mess, Albus noted. "Is your hair brush not speaking to you today?"  
  
Gellert self-consciously pulled his fingers through his hair, looking away until he could think of something clever to say. "The length, it is difficult to manage."  
  
Albus smiled to himself a little, amused by Gellert's persistent vanity.  
  
"If only there were something one could do about having hair that is longer than you might like. I'm surprised you haven't cut it already to be honest."  
  
Gellert had never chosen to wear his hair long, not as Albus always had. As long as the two wizards had known each other, Gellert preferred his hair no longer than shoulder length, letting it curl around his face.  
  
Dumbledore tried not to notice the strange moment of self-doubt Gellert had; feeling the impulse to apologize rising too quickly for his comfort.  
  
"I didn't arrive with a wand, Albus." Gellert sighed. "Is it disastrous?"  
  
Albus's blue eyes widened in rare surprise.  
  
"You don't have a wand?" He hadn't realized it, but he hadn't seen Gellert attempt a single instance of magic since he'd arrived and wondered how he could ever have missed it.  
  
Gellert ... powerless. It was what he knew was safest, Gellert with his usual measure of power could be disastrous for The Village and ... yet ...  
  
"I'm very sorry," Albus said softly, "I had no idea."  
  
Gellert huffed, "I died without a wand, Albus. I arrived just as I was, in the moment your former student decided it was time some forgotten old man to die."  
  
"There are," Albus swallowed, "no wand makers presently in The Village. Have you given thought to any alternatives?"  
  
Although Dumbledore was the man responsible for imprisoning Grindelwald and keeping him as powerless as possible, Gellert had served his sentence and was now a free man ... a wizard without a wand.  
  
It was rather like watching a bird try to fly with clipped wings.  
  
Gellert's tongue moved inside his mouth, picking at his clean teeth, shifting his jaw; a hint of anger shining through, rather then his usual playfulness. "Alternatives? Yes ... may I have my wand back, Albus?"  
  
Albus blinked, sitting up a little straighter. "Gellert," he said, evenly but firmly, "the only wand I arrived with was the wand I used when we met. I no longer have yours."  
  
As proof, Albus produced his own wand and laid it on the table between them, long, slender and intricately carved out of a deep red wood. It used to match the auburn of his hair precisely.  
  
"Such a lovely coloration." Gellert mentioned, eyes fixed on the object. To anyone else in the restaurant, it was a simple piece of wood between two old men. But to Gellert, it was a chance to have the upper hand, after so many years. He imagined that if he summoned the wand into his hand, the spells would return to his memory, or simply instinct would allow him to triumph.  
  
The temptation was there, but not strong enough. He looked away as if finding the art on the wall suddenly very interesting.  _Put that away._  
  
"I suppose you must keep close to me, yes? Albus? Protect me, since I am incapable of defending myself."  
  
Albus LAUGHED, a full, rich sound that made heads turn in the restaurant. For a moment, he almost looked as though he was crying a little and had to wipe his eyes, replacing his glasses carefully before he plucked his wand off the table and looked at Gellert. "Yes, I suppose I shall have to follow you around everywhere you go and make certain that no one takes advantage of your vulnerable state. You are quite a delicate little flower, Herr Grindelwald, aren't you?"  
  
Gellert was wandless, and that diminished the magic he could perform, but the thought of Gellert being completely unable to defend himself, wandless or no, was hilarious. Wands were handy for day to day tasks, and specific spells but neither Albus nor Gellert really needed them for the more elemental, powerful sorts of magic.  
  
"Yes, that is an excellent proposal, Albus." Gellert leaned forward, arms on the table, seeing Albus laugh was familiar and comforting.  
  
Albus couldn't help but frown a little, "Gellert." He stared at the eyes of his old friend ... and enemy, lowering his voice, "you don't seriously doubt your ability to employ elemental magic without the aid of a wand, do you?"  
  
Shrugging a shoulder uncomfortably, Gellert continued to look away. "I have not tried." He was ashamed, he didn't want Albus to see it in his eyes.  
  
The wards of his imprisonment had been as such where the great wizard had been unable to manage even the simplest of warming spells. In this sense, the magical aspect of his imprisonment had been much more oppressive then staring at the same stone grey walls, without human contact for all those years.  
  
Albus hesitated for only a second before standing and walking to the door, holding it open.  
  
"I think you should come with me, Gellert."  
  
"What- about lunch?" Gellert asked, not moving at first. Though considered that perhaps Albus was going to escort him around The Village and be his protector, and so therefore stood.  
  
Albus waited until Gellert had joined him outdoors before putting a hand on his arm and apparating them both to one of the lovelier and more remote parts of The Village's expansive park. "Lunch can wait," he smiled a little, "but war criminal or no, I won't have you moping around because you believe you can no longer perform magic, Gellert."  
  
"Not moping." When Albus let go, Gellert twisted his arm around so that they locked elbows. Leaning his head against Albus's shoulder with a smile, "Are you to instruct me in the ways of magic, Professor?"  
  
 _Give him an inch, and he'll take ... Europe._  
  
Albus took a deep breath and disentangled himself from Gellert's embrace, remembering quite easily the first time he'd been clutched like that.  
  
"I'm not about to teach you anything, Gellert-" he said, taking a few steps away, needing the distance. "But I do think you need to discover that you are not as powerless as you seem to believe."  
  
A goodly portion of Albus's brain wrote angry letters, demanding to know exactly what had possessed the rest of the wizard to set about HELPING Grindelwald with anything at all.  
  
The truth was, Albus always believed in treating others as he'd like to be treated ... and he hoped that should he ever believe himself incapable of the slightest magic, someone, anyone would remind him of the contrary.  
  
"How shall I discover this?" Gellert smiled, walking in a slow circle around Albus.  
  
"Something rather like this ..." Albus smiled, and made a quick, slashing motion with his wand, severing a bough from an oak tree just over Gellert's head. It was a large, heavy branch, and had to fall a great height, crashing through smaller branches on it's way down, aimed directly at the former dictator's head.  
  
"Think fast." Albus murmured kindly as he watched the proceedings over a newly conjured cup of tea.  
  
Gellert hadn't time to doubt himself. In apparation-like fashion, Gellert disappeared from his placement of certain death and reappeared a good hundred feet away. The broken bow burying itself into the earth, splintering into smaller pieces. Though it was magic, it was not exceptionally creative at all. Had the German felt more confident, the two men likely would have been standing in their same positions, experiencing a sudden rain of sawdust.  
  
"WHY YOU TO KILL ME?!" Gellert shouted from afar, keeping his distance. This wasn't fun at all.  
  
Albus Dumbledore wasn't the sort of man to laugh at the suffering of another, but Gellert's always dramatic recollection of event tended to make Albus smile, even when he didn't want to.  
  
"Kill you?" Albus called back and shrugged elegantly before apparating closer. "I merely created an immediate problem that required you to respond without sifting it through that mind of yours, and you did. Beautifully." Albus sipped his tea and might have winked, "I wouldn't have let the tree kill you, Gellert." Then again, it could have been a trick of the light.  
  
"Oh, wouldn't you have?" Gellert huffed, eyeing Albus now, not familiar with his mean streak for some time. "Laying under the weight of that tree, crushed and mutilated with my intestines, _out_ -testines."  
  
"A very convenient accident to your moral sensibilities, you are blameless, of course. As always. But finally eliminating me ... with a tree, Albus? A TREE?!" Gellert was not impressed, if he was worth killing, then it should be done right. Death by tree seemed so unbecoming. Then again, so was death in prison, as an old man who was wand less, defenceless.  
  
Albus sighed heavily, fighting a laugh. He would have lost had it not been for years of experience with his students.  
  
"Gellert," he said, gently, as though addressing a bird with highly ruffled feathers, circling him this time in a slow, graceful track, his jewel toned robes vivid against the fading autumn grass, "if you had listened to me the first time, you would have understood that I was not trying to kill you. If I wanted you dead, don't you think that you would be already? I was testing your reflexes and as I knew you would, you passed. You are capable of magic, Gellert."  
  
Albus took another sip from his tea cup and contemplated the colours of some fallen leaves on the ground.  
  
"I wouldn't have actually let it hit you, you know."  
  
"If you wanted me dead, you would have a tree or something else do it!" Gellert crossed his arms across his chest. Sure, the Gryffindor of Hogwarts was brave, but in Gellert's opinion, Albus had never believed in anything strong enough to risk his soul. As Gellert had.  
  
With little more then a soft pop one might hear in a slowly diminishing fire, Gellert disappeared again, retreating into the forest.  
  
Albus shook his head, almost fondly before making his teacup disappear.  
  
"You're not actually hearing a word I've said," Albus smiled enigmatically from the spot he had apperated to, just in front of Gellert's path through the woods. "I don't want you killed at all, Gellert. Not by my hand, not by another person's hand and not by virtue of an accident involving an inanimate object. Besides ..." Albus smiled a little more, mischievously. "You seem to have forgotten one important point. We're both dead."  
  
Glaring at his old friend, Gellert pulled himself up as tall as he could manage, which was still a few inches shorter then Albus. "So you think we can not die again? Cannot feel pain? Is that what you are saying to me?"  
  
The ground under Albus softened, pulling the other man, down ankle-deep into the soil, so that Gellert was taller.  
  
Albus raised a snowy eyebrow and peered at Gellert over the top of his glasses.  
  
"Pain is likely, but another death is ... I think, a little far-fetched, don't you? Or do you ..." a snare of tree root animated itself and wound around Gellert's ankles, over his boots, locking him there as the ground under Albus rose and solidified, perhaps rising an inch or two higher than it had been before, "propose that the universe is banal enough to put us through endless alternate universes for the rest of eternity?"  
  
Just for show, the tree root that bound Gellert's ankles curled upwards into quite a Victorian flourish and sprouted a large, festive looking flower at the end.  
  
"You are the academic." The root and flower turned to ash upon being touched by Gellert's hand.  
  
"Are you suggesting I could be drowned or hung or burned, and though I would not feel pain, I would not die? Tell me Albus, are we immortals, in death? Or will we disfigure? Will we continue to age?"  
  
"Very good questions." Albus walked ahead a little, speaking to the air beside him as though he seemed to know Gellert would follow. Indeed, it was difficult for anyone, even Albus Dumbledore to know what Gellert Grindelwald might do next, but it was a safe bet.  
  
"But once again, you are missing the point in that spectacular fashion you have of doing so. My point is that I have never and will never wish for your death or demise, Gellert. That is the point."  
  
Gellert took Albus by the hand, interlacing their fingers, walking next to him, more relaxed and sighed, "I knew you must love me still."  
  
Albus didn't quite stop walking altogether, but slowed at the touch, unable to remember the last time anyone had held his hand for longer than it took to exchange a handshake.  
  
The last time had been in a forest that looked much like the beautiful wooded area of the park that they walked through now, at the end of summer, and it had been with the same boy. Smell was said to be the surest link to human memory, but feeling the same fingers thread through his took him back to their last morning together vividly: Gellert's gold curls catching the early sunlight, the way they spoke back and forth in partial sentences, rarely needing full thoughts between them anymore and the feeling of being utterly unguarded around Gellert. Albus hadn't been truly unguarded since, not after what occurred when they returned home that fateful, terrible, beautiful morning.  
  
"We are not boys anymore" Albus said, stiffly, removing his hand from Gellert's impulsive grip.  
  
"We were never boys, Albus." Gellert grinned, then began to scratch his ear lobe in thought, "Are you suggesting we cannot be affectionate because of age, Albus?"  
  
Albus began walking again at once, smoothly and just a little ahead of Gellert, wishing the lingering feeling of Gellert's hand in his would have the decency to leave.  
  
"We were boys," Albus sighed, "or at least I was and you still are. As for your question," Albus stopped and turned to face Gellert, "Frankly, yes. We are too old, both of us, it would be ... unnatural. Desires fade, as does foolishness, nothing you nor I can do about it, I'm afraid."  
  
Albus had enjoyed his life as an old man, certainly, but he'd never been so relieved to be positively archaic.  
  
" _Mein Gott_!" Gellert shook his head, disappointed. "Too old?! We're not too old! There is NOTHING unnatural about it!" He continued to swear in German, not yet being able to articulate to Albus just how absurd he was being. "I don't know what is worse! The fact that you THINK this nonsense, or that you have such DELIGHT in it!"  
  
"Gellert," Albus raised an eyebrow, "love itself might be a universal force, but the act of being in love is something best left to younger, less ..." Albus looked down at his own silvery beard, "time-worn individuals. There's a very good reason Romeo and Juliet were not separated by warring nursing homes."  
  
"Romeo and Juliet?!" Gellert shouted in a very pronounced German accent. "Of all the preposterous ... Romeo and Juliet were separated by teen suicide! Why must you cite this example, Albus? Your Shakespeare was a wonderful writer, but they were fools. They were not in love! They loved the idea of love, and nothing more."  
  
He felt almost ill. In part because though the two men historically disagreed with one another, they had only properly quarrelled on two occasions. Of course they had provoked and teased one another, but there was nothing so unsettling to Gellert's stomach as fighting with Albus.  
  
Albus sighed, watching Gellert work himself up into a froth. As he had done in the past, Albus waited for the German to say what he had to say, and then waited a few more before speaking quietly, but evenly.  
  
"Gellert ... my point stands. Perhaps we were just as foolish, but at any rate, it is wildly inappropriate to suggest that at our age, after all we've been through that we could ever be-"  
  
It wasn't often that Dumbledore hesitated, and doing so now stung. He felt a flash of anger at himself for his own verbal clumsiness, but pushed it aside. "As we were."  
  
"I disagree with you Albus, I do not see what is so inappropriate." Gellert growled. "If we had been together all these years, rather then separated, we would not have stopped for age."  
  
Albus fixed the German wizard with a long, cold glare.  
  
"Yes. I suppose if we were actually inseparable we wouldn't have been separated. We were, however, as I'm sure you well remember, having done the separating yourself."  
  
Gellert's right hand trembled, resisting the urge to slap Albus across the face. He would have never done such a thing, now or then, but his old friend was being unapologetically cruel.  
  
"Albus, you have something up your ass. I don't know what it is, but it has made you toxic." He said as a matter of fact, before disappearing from the forested area altogether.  
  
Albus's mouth dropped open as Gellert apperated away, equal parts enraged and amused. For a moment, he considered following the haughty, irrational old wizard, but reconsidered with a sigh. It would do little good to lecture Gellert on the need to be more mature without displaying that virtue himself.  
  
But, Merlin's beard, it tested the nearly infinite limits of his patience.

*                    *                    * 

There was an English idiom Gellert had herd before, that  _the Devil finds work for idle hands_. But by his logic, since undertaking this very specific project, it meant he was doing the right thing, do good, and not the Devil's work at all. Comforting himself with this thought, because after all, who else would do it, Gellert entered into the local apothecary shop with his handwritten list and began to examine the contents bottled and shelved on the walls.

Severus Snape was perusing some sort of scroll there, behind the counter. He glanced up, and spoke, smooth as silk, "Good afternoon, sir. Is there anything you're specifically seeking?"  
  
"What a question" Gellert smiled playfully, regardless of what was expected at his age. "... the reassurances of love, a well made set of boots ... phoenix ash? If not. I will be content with phoenix dander, do you have this?"  
  
That was a remarkably Dumbledore-esque answer. No matter, Snape put his scrolls away and moved to one of the cabinets behind the counter and brought out a remarkably small jar -- but what is within is precious without measure; oh, it is ashy and gray, certainly, but there are flecks of gold, glittering promise within.  
  
"Oh, we have the ash; rare enough but not so rare that it does not appear on the shelves. Full of the potential for renewal-- or purging of the old."  
  
" _Wunderbar._ " Gellert moved closer to the counter, it was perfect. His eyes sparkled with their own golden-delight. With phoenix ash accounted for, it was worthwhile to proceed. "And a copper cauldron, do you have this?"  
  
"Of course." A simple thing; the ash is still in hand as he fetches it -- not about to leave something that valuable sitting on the shelf, The Village or no.  
  
"Do you collect these, yourself?" Gellert asked, finding some items to be common, like the curls of birch bark or bottles of red wolf berries. It was a sad state of affairs in his mind, when wizard folk forgot the value of collecting their own ingredients ... then again, such independence would put this man out of a job.  
  
"When The Village allows for it, which is rarely," Severus said, a passing disgust on his feature. "But it supplies me richly in rare reagents, so I cannot be too ungrateful."  
  
But that didn't mean he had to like it. Severus was not a man who enjoyed being HANDED anything, really. Slytherins were ambitious -- but only rarely lazy. Those that were ended up flunkies.  
  
"Humbling ..." Gellert sighed, understanding now that he would have to accept what was provided here, rather then enjoy the hunt and cultivation of his own basic supplies. It meant he had to buy, rather then find his own source, for the simplest of things. This he found to be annoying. "Then I must also have gold shavings and a mandarin garnet, though I am particular about the color. How infuriating ..." Back home, he would never have had to pay for these things. "There are no mines in The Village are there?"  
  
"It is what it is. The alternative is somewhat less desirable." Pushing up daisies and all.  
  
But gold shavings are produced, however: "The garnet you may need to seek at the jeweler's."  
  
"Thank you for the suggestion, young man. This will be all, for now."  
  
 _Young man._  Only Albus ever called him such a thing -- but this wizard was easily a -- contemporary of Snape's only (admitted) friend. Severus' brow quirked, but he quickly tallied the goods for Gellert.  
  
"Certainly. I shouldn't want a fellow wizard to go into something unprepared, sir." He glanced up once everything was packaged and gave Gellert another once-over. "I didn't catch your name, did I? I am Severus Snape."  
  
"How considerate ... everyone here has been so polite." Gellert smiled with a fond, light sigh as if it were like breathing fresh air after years of stagnation, which it was. "And what would you do with my name, Herr Snape?"  
  
"Is it so out of place for a man to want to know his clientèle, sir?" Snape shrugs; the sale is complete, so there's no reason to fuss either way. "If you prefer secrecy, I understand."  
  
But it makes the man more interesting, that's for certain.  
  
For a moment Gellert considered giving Albus Dumbledore as his name, though reasoned that if this man collected the names of his clientele, then he likely had already met Albus. And anyway, he was not ashamed of his name, "Gellert Grindelwald, thank you for these supplies."  
  
Oh yes, Severus knew Albus.  
  
Knew Albus well enough to know the weight behind the name Gellert Grindelwald was heavy indeed. It was something they both understood intimately-- losing what you cared about, destroying what you loved best.  
  
"Yes," he says, not even a bat of the eyelash betraying the once master spy. "A pleasure, Master Grindelwald."  
  
Collecting his supplies and placing them inside the copper cauldron, Gellert hooked the handle over his arm as if it were a handbag.  
  
"Yes" it was a pleasure, Gellert decided, "Good day, Herr Snape!"  
  
Indeed, a pleasure. Watching the curious man go, he wondered-- and then banished the thought. Of course Albus knew he was here. There's no doubt that somehow, Gellert Grindelwald would escape Albus' attention.  
  
He shook his head briefly, and then turned back to his work, his mind ticking off potential brews or creations that would need such-- equipment and reagents.

*                    *                    *

The plotting former dictator was taking a break from his plotting and dictating by spending the evening at the hotel bar. When his request for a cherry liquor, beer and soda mixture was unsatisfactory to his tastes, Gellert ordered a glass of Riesling, the white wine of his home land.   
  
Overall, he was missing his youth, in Germany. Here in The Village, he could not cultivate resources for himself, they were either provided, or not. It all seemed very infantile. He felt as he did in prison all those years, everything seemed like such a waste of time, even though he was dead and time had no real relevance anymore. But what was really annoying him, was that Albus wasn't speaking with him. In fact, he had been outright rude with his little older man charade. And so as an old friend ought to, Gellert was going to take it upon himself to remind Albus, who he was. He needn't pretend anymore, not with him. Being absent from his life for so long mattered little, Gellert knew Albus Dumbledore best and soon he'd be able to remind him of that fact.

The night was young and Sirius had a craving for a pint. Remus was trying to concentrate on grading papers upstairs, and James was out, so the young pureblood headed down to the hotel bar for a quick one.  
  
He sauntered into the room wearing his usual jeans and tattery shirt and took a seat at the bar itself, signalling the bar keep with a grin.  
  
"A pint of dark, thanks" he stretched, hearing his shoulder pop loudly before he draped one pale arm over the back of the stool.  
  
"An Englander." Gellert smiled, recognizing the fine tuned English accent, even if the boy disguised himself as something more common. "I did not realize the Victorians had become so lenient with their drinking laws."  
  
Sirius turned his head to the right, and saw an old man with a beard like Dumbledore's smiling at him from one chair over. His accent sounded like something from Durmstrang, German or Bulgarian or something like that. Sirius just smiled and raised his pint, not understanding a bloody thing about what he was referring to with the Victorians.  
  
"Yeah, British-" he sipped his beer, "but not from the Victorian age, if that's what you mean."  
  
"The English, they are all Victorian." Gellert said glumly, tossing his once curly hair over his shoulder, out of his face. "I am surprised they allow you to drink for one so young."  
  
Sirius laughed, "Then you've been hanging out with the wrong blokes, trust me, not all of us are so ... pent up. I'm seventeen, and that's old enough where I come from, at least for wizards-" he grinned and winked, "not that I wasn't holding back until my seventeenth birthday, mind you."  
  
A young wizard, how fantastic. Gellert smirked and turned in the chair to better examine the handsome face sitting so close to him. "How extraordinary, I hardly believe you of course. Tell me more."  
  
Sirius laughed, charmed by the old man's accent. "What's so hard to believe?" Sirius sipped his beer before he nodded at the older man's robes, "Are you a wizard of some sort too?"  
  
"Of some sort?" Gellert laughed, "I am a wizard of every sort!"  
  
"And it is a brilliant thing you do, even the greatest of magical schools, such as Hogwarts, still lack certain qualities and experiences that can only be achieved, off school grounds."  
  
Sirius grinned again, "Finally, someone who agrees! There's more to life than school and books and classes!" He toasted Gellert's wine glass and took a long drink of his ale, tipping his head back as he did.  
  
"Now then" Gellert took the opportunity to examine the young man as he tipped his head back, noting the paper-white skin, which he guessed was just as delicate as it looked, despite the young man's attempts to appear rough. _Perhaps that is his self defence mechanism_ , Gellert reasoned. "What great feats have you accomplished outside of school?"  
  
Sirius shrugged, "Built a flying motorbike, ditched my idiot family, gave up a life of riches, got a boyfriend ... that's about it so far. Why?"  
  
Though not the social changing endeavors Gellert had pursued, it was moderately interesting enough to make the old man smile. "A boyfriend? Ah, a shame." He ordered the young man another drink, clearly nearly finished with his first, "I am sure you hear this all the time, but you are quite beautiful."  
  
The gold drink was put in front of Sirius and he laughed, "Sure, I hear it lots, but I try not to believe too much of it; it's good to be as modest as I am brilliant and gorgeous." He winked and took the first sip of his beer, charmed by the older gentleman at the bar. There was something weirdly familiar about him that Sirius couldn't place, but he didn't mind if it meant free beer.  
  
"Anyone who says modesty is a virtue are those who are not brave enough to be confident in themselves." Gellert sighed, disappointed in the long list of individuals that covered. "So tell me brilliant, prince charming, what is your name?"  
  
Sirius couldn't help but laugh again, but rolled his eyes a little at the word 'prince'. "Sirius, but definitely not the princely type-" Sirius leaned across the bar, offering his hand for a shake, "Sirius Black."  
  
"That's right, you said already." Gellert shook his hand in the way one might a woman's, turning their hands so that Sirius's hand was on top as Gellert bowed his head slightly. "You left your family and your life of riches."  
  
"My name is Gellert Grindelwald."  
  
Sirius's hand went cold and his amused expression froze. The wizard had looked familiar before, but now Sirius understood where from. Needless to say, Mr. and Mrs. Black held Grindelwald as a historical example for their sons to emulate in his stance against muggle rights.  
  
"Grindelwald. You mean ... shut in a tower for killing millions of innocent people Grindelwald?" Sirius took his hand back, stunned.  
  
Gellert sighed, disappointed, "Is that what they teach in schools these days?" He turned back to his drink. His drink was reliable, honest. It was what it was and wouldn't lecture him. It was there to be consumed. And Gellert was only too happy to oblige.  
  
Sirius narrowed his eyes, "What, you'd rather pretend it didn't happen? How could you do what you did and just shrug it off like you burned breakfast?"  
  
"I know exactly what I did; I know, because I was there." Gellert said blankly. The pretty boy at the bar with him was too young to know the difference between historical fact and historical fiction, which was what often was depicted in the books. The winning side always made itself look like that absolute right so that any opposition could be clearly marketed as dangerous and vile; when the truth was always somewhere in between. Compassion, honesty and other virtues could be found on both sides, as could viciousness, manipulation and pain. Pain was certainly a common factor to both sides.  
  
Sirius blinked at the utter blankness on the older wizard's face and laughed a little, hollowly. "Alright then, go ahead. Tell me your side-" his eyes were still narrowed, "tell me about how heroic your actions were. All those innocent muggles probably asked to be tortured, locked up and starved to death, right? Not to mention all the people who didn't agree with you ..."  
  
At the suggestion of people starving to death and being tortured, Gellert sneered, disgusted. "Such ugly words from such a pretty mouth."  
  
Sirius glared harder, his 'pretty mouth' twisting a little in a sneer as he crossed his arms.  
  
"Ugly but ... what? A lie? You mean you didn't kill people because they objected to having their countries taken over by a power hungry wizard on a roll? Go on, tell me. You didn't lock people up without fair trials and starve them to death? I mean, correct me if I have it wrong, but I think what you did is fucking disgusting and I'll be damned if I'm going to smile politely about it and pretend it's not fucking horrific."  
  
"Gah! Is this what Dumbledore teaches his students?! It was never about power, it was about rights! The right for wizards to live in the light and not the shadows! It is very basic, the right to live as we are! And not-" Gellert grumbled, "oppressed and silenced simply because the muggles out number us. Such arrogance you cannot even begin to conceive of, young man. They demand that the world make accommodations for them, as if they are the only beings on this planet and needn't share it with anyone! What I was doing, Sirius Black, had everything to do with a global movement for wizarding acknowledgement, for the muggles to recognize that we exist and would not be refused our rights in the world!"  
  
Sirius's grey eyes went cool and clear for a second and when he spoke it was through an amused smirk. "Actually, I was raised by people who worshiped you as a god. I was made to read every pro-Grindelwald history book out there and you know what? Fighting for rights to exist alongside muggles is not the same as fighting to rule over them, and over every wizard who doesn't think wizards are better than muggles. It wasn't about equality, dirt bag. How dim do I look to you!? It was about supremacy from the start. You wanted us to be out there with the muggles and in charge of them too!"  
  
Sirius stood, slapping a bill down to cover both of his drinks.  
  
"Maybe you should stop believing your own propaganda so much-" he downed the rest of his drink in one swallow and put the empty glass down hard. "And by the way, Dumbledore never said a bloody thing about you. Not in interviews, not in classes, never. If we tried to ask him all he would say was that it was a very sad affair and then he'd walk away. It's called class. You might not have it, I might not have it, but don't drag his name through the mud, mate."  
  
With that, Sirius left.  
  
It would have been a perfect exit had he not almost run into Albus himself in the doorway. If anything, Sirius looked a little embarrassed to have been caught defending Dumbledore's good name and ducked his head, passing him by for a long walk outside to calm down.  
  
Left alone at the bar, Gellert glared at the empty beer glass. Once upon a time he would have obliterated the young man, though supposed it would have proven the boy's point. Still, it wasn't all propaganda. Perhaps some things had gotten a little fuzzy over the years, even before prison, but Gellert would continue to defend his actions. The boy didn't know what it was like back then. Those of the new religion had only recently stopped beheading his kinfolk for being witches ... the new generation was clearly spoiled, they didn't understand the world before their time.  
  
Albus stood in the doorway as Sirius passed, and remained there for a moment longer, considering Gellert at the bar. He'd heard every word of the exchange, of course. Gracefully, Dumbledore strode towards the bar and stood behind the seat Sirius had so recently vacated, managing to keep a serene expression. "Is this seat taken?"  
  
Turning his head to look back over his shoulder, Gellert gave Albus an extremely annoyed look. "You know very well it is not."  
  
Albus smiled politely and took the seat at the bar, asking the attentive bartender for a small glass of sherry.  
  
Sherry delivered, Albus nodded his thanks and took a sip before he looked up at Gellert.  
  
"I believe ... as the children are so fond of saying these days, you were just pwned." His bright blue eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. "How does it feel?"  
  
"Satisfied?" Gellert sneered, a small hairline crack raising from the goblet of his wineglass where he held it, though it did not shatter.  
  
Albus reached over, taking his wine glass away from him and charming the crack away. He'd lost far too many teacups that way the summer they'd met and the response was almost a reflex.  
  
"Astounded might be a better word for it, I've been trying to make that exact point for over a century now and that pretty child just managed in under five minutes-" He passed the now impervious wineglass back to Gellert, full of Riesling. "Perhaps you listen better to the attractive and young, I might have known." Albus was far from upset, if anything his skin was positively glowing and his eyes glittered with humor.  
  
"Go away." Gellert said dully, laying his head down on the counter as if preparing to take a nap.  
  
Albus laughed loudly, a full, unrestrained laugh that came from the always responsible wizard too rarely. "Why? Might you be feeling the creeping tendrils of guilt, or is that simply asking too much of the world?"  
  
Gellert picked up his head, "Don't laugh at me."  
  
Albus cleared his throat, still smiling. "Would you rather I left you here to sulk and not speak to you?" Another sip of the excellent sherry relaxed Albus even more.  
  
"We got along just fine until there was an exchange of names." Gellert didn't understand why people didn't like him. He was accustomed to people falling over themselves to get his attention. Or at the very least, respectfully listening to what he had to say.  
  
"Really?" Albus asked patiently. "Might this be a trend you've seen among those from our world, Gellert? I think you had become so used to only speaking with those who agreed with you that perhaps you lost perspective a little along the way. Might that be a fair observation?" The gloating amusement was gone from Albus's voice now, he spoke softly and sincerely, looking at the top of Gellert's bowed, ivory hair.  
  
"If that is what you say." Gellert agreed, Albus had always been better these sorts of things. He trusted his judgement.  
  
"What I say is based only on observation." He took another, longer sip of his sherry and then looked down at his ringed hands against the bar top, "and decades of thought on the matter."  
  
"However, we are certainly both guilty. I agreed, did I not, to help engineer an ideal world where we would govern the muggles. You took things too far-" he looked at Gellert again, sadly, "as I knew you had the tendency to do. Might it have turned out differently if-" Albus turned the glass in his hand for a moment, "if I had been there? Might I have persuaded you not to kill?"  
  
"I wish you had been there. I wanted you to be ..." Gellert looked at Albus, then away, feeling the small difference in their ages as enough to shame him for not being as perfect as Albus Dumbledore. "I listen to you" even when it did not always appear to be the case, I stopped-"  
  
"I didn't think you would." Albus's voice was barely more than a murmur as he twisted a ring on his fingers absently, thinking back on the horrible years he spent trying to make himself face Gellert, to stop him ... and failed. "I knew I would never win a duel as long as you had that ... wand."  
  
"Oh sure, give praise to the wand." Gellert sighed, "I had always been more superior in duels. It wasn't the wand. It was me."  
  
Albus cocked an eyebrow, "Really? Perhaps I've become better with age-" he chuckled quietly. "But true enough, only because I hesitated before fighting dirty."  
  
"And your duelling abilities with or without the wand were not why I stayed away." He finished his small glass of sherry and hesitated before ordering another.  
  
"I know. It was me." Gellert said again, not drinking at all, anymore, just staring at the off-white wine ripple in the impervious glass as they spoke.  
  
Albus stared into his sherry, and when they did the same thing, they looked like bookends.  
  
"It was-" he said, making a cautious distinction, "what you could do."  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Gellert asked, looking out of the corner of his eye. "Hadn't I done enough, in your opinion?"  
  
Albus looked over at Gellert and took a deep, deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. "There are worse things than being hexed, Gellert. Far, far worse. I'm ashamed to say that I hesitated because ..." Ariana. Yes, he feared the truth about his sister's death, absolutely, but Aberforth could have devastated him with the same truth and yet, he still spoke with his brother when he could when he was alive. "If you chose to, you could destroy me without lifting the wand at all."  
  
"I thought I already did ... wasn't that why you imprisoned me? Because I hurt you." He had disappointed him, he knew that. He had destroyed his family and broken his promise.  
  
Albus looked up swiftly. "No." He tilted his head a little, looking intrigued and puzzled. "No. Certainly, I was hurt by what happened-" Albus swallowed, pushing away the memory of Gellert's abandonment when they were young and the aching feeling of being more alone than he'd ever been coupled with his guilt over permitting the fight that killed Ariana to take place.  
  
"But I imprisoned you to satisfy the outrage of all the people you had wronged, Gellert. People who wanted you tortured and dead for what you had done to them over the years ..." Albus was deeply surprised. "As angry as I was with you for leaving when you did, I would never, never have imprisoned you for it."  
  
Clearly though, Gellert had taken the entire situation very personally. He might have understood better if it had been the masses who came for him, asking for his blood ... but Gellert had never seen that side. Except for the occasional poorly conceived assassination attempt, Gellert had no concept of those he had wronged.  
  
"I missed you." He said, meaning both before and during his imprisonment.  
  
Albus swallowed another mouthful of sherry and focused his blue eyes on something in the distance, far beyond the walls of the hotel.  
  
"Then why" he asked, very quietly, "did you never return?"  
  
It was now Gellert's turn to look at Albus as if he had suddenly become demented with age, misunderstanding everything between them entirely. "Albus-!" He shifted in his chair so that he was facing his old friend, placing his hand on his own thigh to keep from shaking. "I had just destroyed your family. I was afraid of what you would do to me, of course!"  
  
Albus's blue eyes widened and he leaned closer. "Gellert!" he muttered, "Don't shout. This is a public place! Calm yourself, please." After swallowing the last of his sherry, Albus took another calming, slow breath before answering, determined not to become irrational now.  
  
"Gellert-" he began, in the very calmest, very sanest voice he could conjure at the moment. Instead of sherry, a sobering cup of tea appeared in front of Dumbledore.  
  
"Gellert-" he began again, and the words drifted off again as he contemplated the shock on Gellert's face, finding it genuine.  
  
"I waited. For years. I waited."  
  
Unable to say any more, Albus stood up and left, robes sweeping out behind him as he rounded the frame of the doorway that led back to the rest of the hotel.  
  
Gellert wanted to go after him. He really did. He wanted to confront Albus about this, here and now. But two thoughts struck Gellert, which had never occurred to him before. One was in the way Albus had hushed him. It made him see what he had not seen before. Albus was ashamed of him. Embarrassed. Gellert wondered if he could only cause that sort of response because Albus still cared for him, knowing perhaps, that he shouldn't. It was love. And Albus was ashamed of it.  
  
The second thought however bombarded the first into dust, making his mind feel foggy and Gellert felt strangely uncertain of himself. Had the defining tragedy of their lives really been based on a misunderstanding?

*                    *                    * 

In a turquoise ensemble that would have complemented his curly blond hair, had he still had it, Gellert sat at a table at the cafe near to the window. Waiting for Albus to meet him, as he said he would. He had already ordered a pot of hot water, two tea cups and was thumbing through the selection of tea bags from a wooden tray the waitress had provided him with. However, instead of deciding on just one tea bag, he began to sort through the different varieties, aligning like-flavors together, facing them all in the same direction.  
  
"Sorting tea?" A voice inquired from across the table, where Albus sat after apperating into the chair. Albus smiled a little, amused, "I believe the point is to choose one and make tea with it, but if you have a system worked out, I won't stop you."  
  
In contrast, Albus wore an everyday, pale blue robe that he'd specifically chosen for it's high neck and everyday-ness.  
  
"Won't you?" Gellert said, not looking up from his project. "I'm sure if I go too far, you'll stop me." It was only then that Gellert looked up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."  
  
"Only if you begin to take over other tables and appropriate their tea for your personal gain. Then I'm afraid I'll have no choice." Despite his best efforts to remain aloof, Albus was, deep down, relieved to see Gellert again.  
  
"There is your humor." Gellert smiled.  
  
Albus allowed himself to smile a little. "It does make an appearance from time to time, even as old as I am."  
  
He turned the wooden box Gellert was ruling over towards himself, and started to arrange the little envelopes of tea into a sort of rainbow, mixing the colors for maximum impact before choosing one and opening it, dropping it into his cup.  
  
"How have you been?" he asked, guardedly.  
  
"Since when?" Gellert asked, equally as careful and particular. Taking the box back and organizing it again as they spoke. "Since five minutes ago? Yesterday? The last fifty years?"  
  
Albus raised an eyebrow, and refrained from rolling his eyes.  
  
"Since the last time we spoke, Gellert." Albus said in what he knew was his professor voice, gentle but pointed, and slightly amused. "How have you been since the last time we spoke?"  
  
Sleeping off two and a half bottles of German wine. Terrorizing children. Missing Albus. The usual. "Thinking on what you said. But that there is more to say ... when you are ready to hear it." Gellert added, pushing the tea box to the side as he poured himself a cup.  
  
Albus nodded softly, keeping his face perfectly neutral, a skill he'd developed during his time as a professor.  
  
"I see."  
  
He waited for Gellert to set the tea pot back down on the table and poured himself a cup, watching the released tea swirl and bloom in the boiling water with a sigh.  
  
Albus cast a quick silencing charm around their table with a flick of his wrist and nodded, looking up again.  
  
"Now is as good a time as any, go on."  
  
"There has been a misunderstanding between us, Albus. Which has cost us both ... in immeasurable ways." Gellert did not have Albus's patience, he never had. The excitable boy had turned into an anxious older man, who scratched his thumb nail against the side of his tea cup. "Why do you think I left, Albus?"  
  
Albus removed his glasses and polished them on the napkin provided next to his cup and saucer. He hadn't touched his tea yet, it sat steaming and cooling in front of him, tendrils of the steam curling in the air of the cafe. Albus watched them as though they were ghosts before he replaced his glasses.  
  
"Certainly, I had several theories" he began, with an even, somber voice. "Aberforth seemed to think that you feared legal repercussions of being present." He took a long sip of his tea and looked out the window for a moment.  
  
"Being present-" he continued, "as you were on the day you left. I had considered, over the years, many possible reasons. Though generally, I had come to the conclusion that my company and my ideas no longer held interest for you." It was only by virtue of decades of hardship and heartbreak that Albus Dumbledore managed to say what he had without breaking.  
  
Gellert however just starred at Albus. They had both taken what they had done to the other, personally, rather then for the greater good, as it had been intended. With that in mind, Gellert began to understand how implementing his rule for world change hadn't worked out for him. People had taken his ideas for change, personally, rather then set themselves apart and see how it would benefit their global society. But that was in the past. He had failed then, on numerous accounts. He would be careful not to fail now, even if it hurt just as much.  
  
"No Albus. That was not why I left. It is strange that your brother was closer to the truth in this matter." Gellert drank his tea as well, feeling better as his drank. "Albus, I was afraid of you."  
  
Albus stared in turn, his usually serene expression clouded and guarded. It was some time before he spoke again. "And what, precisely, were you afraid I would do to you?" he said, blankly.  
  
"My initial thought was that you would kill me ... but during the first year, I expected you were preparing me for something worse."  
  
Despite preparing for the meeting by storing many of his worst memories in the pensive in his room, Albus still had to look out the window for a long, long moment before he could respond. "I'm ... sorry. Might we discuss this somewhere private?" he asked softly, politely.  
  
Gellert looked down at his tea cup, understanding that Albus was ashamed. "If you feel that would be better." He was not eager to be alone in a room with Albus as he might have been under other circumstances.  
  
Albus seemed to relax a little, nodding as he continued to look out of the window.  
  
"Well, we should finish our tea of course ..." he murmured. Leaving tea unfinished, would be counter productive at the best and barbaric at worst. Besides, it was, he considered, very good tea and helped to soothe his nerves.  
  
Tea finished in silence, Albus stood and waited for Gellert to join him, not looking directly at him as he spoke.  
  
"Would my room suffice? It does have rather more furniture than yours seemed to."  
  
"Yes." Gellert finished his drink as well, though as he stood, resisted the urge to hook his arms with Albus in order to walk with him. "If that's not too scandalous for you."  
  
Albus smiled, grimly. "You will only be seeing my parlour, Gellert. Nothing else." Albus, however, offered his arm to Gellert smoothly.  
  
Gellert smiled just the same. Standing beside Albus as he threaded their arms together, Gellert notice that Albus was still an inch and a half taller then him. Though before he could make any comment, the two apperated out of the cafe.  
  
The wizards reappeared in a very, very comfortable living room that held a couch, an arm chair, tables, walls of filled bookshelves and a pensive tucked away in a corner beside a cabinet of shimmering, swirling memories.  
  
The room gave the immediate impression of warmth and elegance, something that suited Albus quite well. A fire crackled away in a fireplace opposite the Victorian couch that Albus gestured to with a smooth wave of his ringed hand.  
  
"Please, have a seat. I do have tea, of course, unless you'd prefer something else."  
  
"Only what you're having." Gellert approached the fireplace, the flames catching his attention in the way that sparkly things attracted magpies. It was a bit warm for his comfort however, and holding his hands in front of the fire (as if to further warm them), Gellert wiggled his fingers, as if he were playing an invisible piano, until the flames diminished to something more subdued.  
  
In his roomy kitchen that was always well stocked with whatever sweet tickled his fancy and hundreds of varieties of tea, Albus prepared a tray of cookies and (of course) tea - rooibos tea, to be specific. When they were young, Gellert had introduced him to the African delicacy, having traveled there as a child with his parents.  
  
Albus hadn't had a drop of it since, and was surprised that it had appeared in his cupboards now. He considered the tin for a few minutes, recognizing it as the very tin Gellert had given him as a gift when they were teenagers.  
  
Meanwhile, in his colorful, comfortable living room, the pensive glowed a little brighter, swirling and shining in it's corner.  
  
"Take your time." Gellert said, approaching the almost foreign object. Touching the rim of the pensive with one hand, Gellert smiled as beautiful, colorful memories danced together. He wouldn't dive into the memories of course, that would be rude. However, seeing as how they were just sitting there, for anyone to see. Gellert glanced in at the temptation, his focus drifting as each memory passed.  
  
"I may be just a moment-" Albus called out, still somehow stuck, staring at the box in his hand, frozen in a memory. "Make yourself comfortable."  
  
 _Why would The Village put something like this here, now?_  He wondered if Gellert had somehow charmed The Village itself, if anyone were able to, he would be.  
  
Closing his eyes, Gellert gently placed both hands on the side of the basin, tipping only his thumbs inside, allowing the instances from Albus's past to play through his mind as if he had been there as well.  
  
 _News reporters crowd Albus, asking him the same questions in English, German, French, Spanish, and Russian. He doesn't stop to answer them. He doesn't stop for anyone. Yesterdays front page of every news paper and magazine had featured the image of Albus, standing outside of Nurmengard, where Grindelwald had just been imprisoned. Today however, they were carpeting the ground on which Albus walked, reminding him with every step._  
  
Pushing the memory away, another took its place ...  
  
 _Albus walking up the winding staircase in Nurmengard tower. There were no human guards here, just Albus's magic and the magic Gellert had put into the building himself, before he had become its prisoner. A younger version of Gellert is sleeping on the floor, arms wrapped around his own chest. He is going through one of his cycles. He is sleeping, but not eating. Albus places a blanket on the floor, near enough to Geller that he'll discover it when he rolls over, but not near enough for Albus to be tempted to touch his old friend. Because he is tempted. He wants to reach out and hold him in the cold room. But instead, after torturing himself with the sight and smell of Gellert in his current state, Albus turns and walks back down the spiral staircase, forcibly reminding himself why he shouldn't do this again._  
  
Another memory took it's place, smoothly.  
  
 _A boy with long, red hair and a boy with blond, wild hair sit under a tree together with a book spread between them. The blond boy chatters away in accented English, pointing to passages in the book as he turns the pages, clearly passionate about whatever it was he was demonstrating.  
  
"Und this is the entire reason, Albus-" he said, his green eyes gleaming, "ze entire reason I have to believe that the Hallows are out there, just waiting to be discovered by we two, by ... us."  
  
This is only the second day they have known each other. The boy with long, red hair looks over the page and nods after consideration.  
  
"Us, Gellert? You speak of this as though you believe it was fated to be."  
  
The boy with the curly, sun colored hair smiled and looked down at the book again.  
  
"I do not believe so much in fate, but ... perhaps in zis case, I can make exceptions. Ja?"_  
 _  
Young Albus Dumbledore looked at the other boy, and everything in his face, the darkness of his pupils in otherwise sky blue eyes, the flush of color in his pale face, even the way he did not notice the wind blowing his hair askew spoke of love; love beyond what any other boy of his age would ever have been capable of. His heart, to anyone who beheld the two, clearly belonged to the boy with the gold curls.  
  
"Yes ..." Albus smiled shyly, "in this instance, I believe exceptions can be made."_  
  
A hand removed Gellert's hands from the sides of the pensive, and Albus spoke from behind him.  
  
"That is enough."  
  
Gellert stepped back, not bothering to make any excuses. "I did not know that you came to visit me."  
  
Albus's face colored a little, dully. "Of course not," he murmured, "I couldn't have let you know, it would have been grossly inappropriate." Near Albus's shoulder, the very tips of his hair began to blush a dark red.  
  
"If I had known you were going to see me ... like that." The proud German moved around the small room, not sitting and not settling, "I would have brushed my hair." He joked dully. He was a proud man. He always had been. He did not like the idea of Albus seeing him so, diminished.  
  
"Your hair!?" Albus exclaimed, unable to disguise how insulting the idea was that he would ever care about how dirty or messy Gellert's hair became.  
  
"I did not apperate from Britain to Nurmengard," Albus's usually sparkling blue eyes narrowed a little as he walked around Gellert and the pensive, "to pass judgement on the style of your hair, Gellert."  
  
Gellert had seen, Albus knew, he had seen his visits now and still seemingly had no idea what sort of resolve it took to make those trips.  
  
"Don't yell at me, Albus." Gellert said quietly, suddenly unable to remain on his feet, not feeling he could withstand Albus's anger just then, "You're breaking my heart." He said, sitting in the armchair.  
  
Albus paused. There were times, many, many times in his long life when he would have sworn that Gellert Grindelwald didn't have a heart to break. It was different, however, seeing him now, the wideness of his green eyes and genuine pallor of his skin at Albus's raised voice.  
  
Whenever Albus was angry enough to raise his voice (those times were usually few and far between), those around him tended to act like animals on the Savannah when a lion roared, ducking, crouching, fleeing and paling. In fact, his patronus as a boy had been a grand, silver-white lion.  
  
Seeing those expressions on Gellert's face, however, stopped Albus. Though a small part of him scoffed at the effort, the taller wizard calmed himself, lowered his eyes and spoke in a much softer voice.  
  
"I was not aware." He'd never seen Gellert afraid of anything, not ever. "What is it you'd like to tell me?"  
  
"I thought you hated me ... that you wanted to kill me." Gellert laughed shortly, a little wild, eyes unfocused. "You had every right. After all, I had just destroyed your family. But to see" he glanced at the pensive, "that, makes me afraid of you once more. I do not know what you will do once you understand the truth."  
  
The Truth.  
  
Albus had feared this moment for decades, and yet, he knew that if it must come, it was time.  
  
"I cannot kill you, Gellert-" he said with more control than he felt, pacing to the dimmed fireplace, and staring into the tips of the bright flames as they curled in the air. "As we are both quite dead already. However, I ... can assure you that the thought had never crossed my mind in life, and I sincerely doubt anything you tell me now, no matter how terrible, will tempt me today."  
  
"Albus." Gellert wasn't certain if he preferred Albus to keep his back to him, not look at him while he spoke or if he wanted Albus to look at him; they had already spent too much time not looking at one another. "I didn't leave because I had ... gotten what I wanted, as you implied. That I had used you and was ready to move on. I was afraid! I had just killed Ariana, and I was afraid! So I ran. And I didn't stop running for over a year!"  
  
Albus turned quickly, his eyes locked with Gellert's intensely as he stepped nearer and then stopped, a strange tingle running down his spine. "How ..." he began before sitting on the very edge of the couch opposite Gellert's chair. It took the usually eloquent old wizard a long moment of silence before he could speak again.  
  
"How in the world do you know it was you? The room was filled with spells of nearly every kind ..." It replayed in his head, again, as it often did when he devoted every shred of brilliance he was capable of to determine what had happened.  
  
"Because I was the more skilled, more practiced duellist ... I know exactly what happened. I thought you did as well." Gellert was quiet and miserable for a long minute, unable to cry (he had never been capable), though his hand shook badly in his lap before he wrapped his fingers around the arm of the chair. "I liked your sister. I liked Ariana. I did not mean to do it."  
  
Albus found his mouth had gone utterly dry, and his hands shook too badly to reach for the tea that waited on the table between them. "What, then ..." he murmured dully, "what happened?"  
  
Gellert had liked Ariana, liked her immensely, and Ariana had been charmed by Gellert's stories, his songs, the animated way he spoke to her and even helped to calm her with Albus to avoid one of her episodes. Between the two of them, Ariana hadn't had an episode in almost two months. It was one of the things that had convinced the two foolish boys that they could take care of her together as they traveled.  
  
"What happened, Gellert?"  
  
"Rather then extinguishing one of the spells your brother sent at me, I deflected it instead. I had been there long enough to understand that Aberforth was not an intellectual sort of boy, and so would better understand if I allowed him a good fight. I deflected his spells, rather then nullifying them, because in destroying the china on the walls or the furniture with his spells, he could see just how devastating being contrary would be for him! But I wasn't paying attention, because it ended when I deflected his last spell and it hit Ariana instead of an armchair ... I was being careless, I should have just ended it, but instead I indulge him, I was playing with him!" Gellert closed his eyes, the coldness he felt was similar to the feeling he had been possessed with all those years in prison.  
  
"And it cost me everything."  
  
Silence stretched between the two men for what felt like an hour before Albus spoke very, very quietly.  
  
"I ... thought for years that it must have been one of my spells" he finally managed, turning his head away as a drop of moisture escaped his eyes. After all of the years since his sister had died, since the absolute destruction of what was left of his family, the memory was still searingly clear. That day, Albus's most painful experience, had never been placed in the pensive for the simple reason that he knew he deserved no relief from it.  
  
Not ever.  
  
"It wasn't your spell. And even if it had been, I was the one to deflect it ... I was the one being reckless ... I liked Ariana. You know that, don't you? I was trying to make a world for her! Where what happened to her would never happen again ... but, I killed her and I ran away." Gellert said again, finally able to say it after all these years.  
  
"I needed you, Albus ... and I was afraid of you. Part of me wanted you to find me and have your revenge, your justice ... but I also wanted to succeed. I wanted you to never find me again, until I had made the world I had promised you and your sister."  
  
Albus's glasses were put down on the table and Dumbledore sat there, as still as a statue with his head in his long-fingered, pale hands. His pale hair looked streaked by red in places by the light of the fire.  
  
"She did adore you" Albus murmured, his voice shaking. "And it was still my fault."  
  
"Stop being so noble for a minute!" Gellert shouted at him, standing now and going to the fireplace, making the flames rise up to meet him, to warm him. "What was the point of me telling you if you are going to go and blame yourself, anyway?! What's the point of loving you if you are going to be miserable about it?!"  
  
Albus stood and crossed to Gellert, quickly. The light of the fire, or perhaps it was the relief of confronting the dark secret between them made the distressed wizard look years younger. "Because it was my responsibility, Gellert! It was not yours, it was not Aberforth's, it was my job to take care of them and everything was destroyed under my watch! I failed them both, I failed you as well! Ariana died, Aberforth ran away, and you left to damn yourself in the history books, perpetrating tragedy upon tragedy to make up for the miserable life of a young girl. How in the world, in any world could I ever look back upon that day as anything but an utter failure on my part?"  
  
Albus closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping, "I should never have let Aberforth draw his wand, I should never have forgotten that Ariana might have come down to see what was happening and I should never have let you leave."  
  
Gellert turned and wrapped his arms around Albus, forcing the other man to hold him he return. Gellert seemed to shrink, becoming more like the small boy of his youth, whose strength had been in magic and not his physical prowess. "For years, Albus, you have been wanting me to take responsibility for my actions, have you not? I am trying to take responsibility. Why aren't you letting me?"  
  
Albus's eyes closed the second Gellert wound his arms around him. Truly, he couldn't remember the last time anyone had hugged him. He realized, it had been Gellert. His hands just froze for a moment before he let himself rest one on Gellert's back and the other on his shoulder. They still fit together as they used to, Gellert just a little shorter, and delicate feeling despite all he was capable of.  
  
The ends of Gellert's gold-white hair curled a little, and before he could stop himself, Albus wound one end around his finger.  
  
 _So much has not changed at all_.  
  
"I'm not sure." Albus admitted quietly, against Gellert's ridiculously long hair.  
  
Gellert rested his head against Albus's shoulder, in a almost the same way Dumbledore's bird, a phoenix, did when it was tired and wanted Albus to go to bed. "You are still strong ... you don't need to prove it to me." He said, tightly holding on, even as his shoulders trembled.  
  
"I don't want to talk anymore, Albus." He wanted this, if Albus would let him.  
  
Albus nodded, not moving from where they stood. "Then we won't," he promised, quietly, and found his arms were not at all inclined to unlock from where they were around Gellert.  
  
"We won't."


	2. Chapter 2

Albus opened his eyes slowly, and focused on the ornate tin ceiling of the living room in his suite. He couldn't quite remember falling asleep on the comfortable sofa in the large, warm room, or falling asleep at all, which was odd. Usually the former headmaster only slept after a concerted effort and several chapters of the least interesting book he could find.  
  
Daylight streamed in the windows of his suite, and the fire that had been burning in the hearth was out now. Albus stood and plucked his half moon reading glasses from the coffee table and set them on the crooked bridge of his nose.  
  
They slipped right off.  
  
 _My goodness, how clumsy._  
  
Albus bent gracefully, picking them up again and righting them on his face ... only to have them slip right past the bump in his long nose and to the floor again. This time, Albus stooped smoothly, picked them up and examined them with a squint of his blue eyes, blowing a long, long strand of dark auburn hair out of his face as he did. The glasses appeared unchanged, they hadn't been damaged-  
  
 _Wait. One moment. Auburn?_  
  
A spark ignited in his brilliant mind and Albus recalled Gellert's visit, the tea they'd had together, the phoenix ash Gellert purchased from Severus's shop ... _AUBURN_.  
  
He hadn't had auburn hair since ...  
  
Albus took three long, easy steps to the nearest mirror and his relatively clean-shaven jaw dropped. There he was, in the mirror, Albus Dumbledore, former headmaster of Hogwart's, former member of the Wizengamot, recipient of the Order of Merlin ... and he looked not a day older than seventeen.  
  
"GELLERT GRINDELWALD!!!!"  
  
"Ja?" Gellert sat up from under a nest of pillows and blankets which had kept the young man warm through the night. The golden curls of hair in front of his face bounced like little springs as he turned his head, keeping his eyes mostly closed as he was still too tired to focus on anything specific.  
  
Albus's newly smooth face contorted a little in fury, "WHAT have you done!?" He could not help the question even though the answer was painfully apparent.  
  
"I suspected you might have obtained the Phoenix Ash to use to make yourself appear youthful again, but to drug a non-consenting, unaware man is entirely reprehensible!" Albus paced as he lectured the sleepy-headed blond cherub on his couch. His own robes hung an inch or two too short from the ground, and looked a touch too large for his younger, leaner frame.  
  
"Why in the world would you resort to such a desperate, not to mention dangerous charade? I find it hard to believe vanity, even as monumental as yours always has been, is the sole motivator for this foolish endeavor!"  
  
Gellert yawned, laying back on the couch, stretching his arms out like wings, not really listening to Albus as he ranted. "Are you asking why I did it?"  
  
Albus's jaw shifted as he stood perfectly still, as though he were watching Gellert on the couch through tall grass, considering him as a source of breakfast. However, instead of indulging his temper (which, he was dismayed to note, burned much clearer in this younger body of his), Albus nodded tensely.  
  
"Yes, Gellert," Albus said with a dangerous sort of quiet, "If you would enlighten me as to why you've changed my body for me, I'd be delighted to hear it. Please, go on."  
  
"You said we were too old; too old to be together ... well, we are not too old now." Gellert smiled, folding his hands behind his head, pleased by the results. Albus looked handsome as ever and he suspected he looked unattainable as ever.  
  
Albus waited for a moment, as though daring to hope that Gellert might have something more to say, some thoughtful addendum that would somehow make him sound like a sane human being.  
  
Then again, he realized, this is Gellert.  
  
"So ..." Albus growled a little, under his breath before he stopped himself and took a step toward the insolent, languid blond boy that looked as though he'd just landed in the middle of Albus's sofa, "now that you've rendered this incredible miracle possible, and we are indeed, young again it stands to follow that we can pick up where we left off?"  
  
Gellert perked up, "Yes" not considering that Albus was perhaps being sarcastic with him. He stood and linked his arm with Albus, "now we can go out!"  
  
Albus smiled a little, a smile that did not reach his eyes.  
  
"Yes, Gellert-" he replied smoothly, patting Gellert's maddeningly smooth, pale hand where it rested on his arm. "I think going out is perhaps the best idea at the moment, thank you for suggesting it."  
  
Albus walked with Gellert on his arm to the door, and opened it, pausing in the doorway to look at Gellert for a long moment.  
  
"You really are quite breathtaking." Albus smiled and then stepped back inside his suite and slammed the door shut between them, locking the blond boy out in the hallway.  
  
"Albus?" Gellert blinked, still smiling from the compliment and having Albus touch his hand. "Albus? Are you going to come out?" He knocked on the door then tried the door knob, finding it had been locked, his smile disappeared.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Gellert willed the locks to obey and unlatch for him, however when he turned the knob on the door to open it, there was another door in its place. "Albus?!" He did it again, "What?!" and again, "Is this?!" and again. But every time he opened a door, there was another closed door to greet him. "Nonsense?!"  
  
The next three doors were decorated with beautiful gold writing, each with a single word upon them at Gellert's eye level so that they formed a short sentence when opened in quick succession by the young-looking German wizard.  
  
 _Go  
  
Away  
  
Gellert_

*                    *                    * 

Many wizards scoff at portents in tea or clouds or rabbit entrails -- but many wizards have not seen a true Seer in the grip of foretelling. Alright, so seen is a broad word here; huddling at a keyhole was hearing more then seeing, but all the same, Severus knows the truth: Some see the weave of fate.  
  
He is not one of those wizards, however. He does not see the truth in his tea leaves or read the stars for a hint to his future. If he had, he would have buggered off for Timbuktu long before the war. He might never leave this house here in The Village, honestly, and he certainly wouldn't talk to a damn soul.  
  
But there is that niggling feeling, a certain sense that the world just went seriously askew sometime in the last week -- that nay, even the forces of nature are Not Quite Alright at the moment. He couldn't explain it if he tried, really. It does make him more tetchy then normal, but brewing in the lab at the shop has calmed his jangle nerves; or maybe it's the numbing fumes from that Gargoyle's Heart potion. Who can say?  
  
It was nearly closing time when a studious looking young man entered the apothecary shop quietly, and examined an ornate bottle near the window as he waited for assistance. The young man in question was strikingly tall, and wore rather old fashioned looking wizarding robes, and sported small glasses perched on his long nose. His long hair grew past his shoulders, and was an astonishingly vibrant shade of red, even in the muted autumn light.  
  
The boy's expression, however, was anything but carefree. Not quite scowling, he looked as though he'd just come inside from a particularly tiresome day.  
  
You know, were it not for the fact that it were robes, the red-hair might make Severus double take. Only one red-head comes to see him, and that's very infrequently. This one, however, was another story entirely.  
  
"Can I help you?" He begins, as he circles the young man -- but honestly-- Snape's spent nearly twenty years of his life within Albus' inner circle. He knows his face even when years have been stripped from it, he knows the damn smell of lemon drops and toffee and tea, he knows Albus.  
  
He stares for a moment, before his mouth is shut, and his lips twist. "You must tell Herr Grindelwald that I must know that recipe. No one's really made it work in the last two hundred years since the death of Paracelus the Third. I am quite intrigued by it's ... potency."  
  
Albus sighed heavily, and fixed Severus with a frank, exasperated look. His eyes, while bright before seemed even bluer since his transformation, possibly the effect of the redness of his hair.  
  
"Thank you, Severus, for recognizing me, even in this state." The voice was Albus's, unmistakably, but it was a touch clearer and smoother than it had been before, like a muggle record after the tiny scratches had been charmed away.  
  
"Mr. Grindelwald has always excelled at experimental potions, although I have never knowingly found myself the test subject for them before-" Albus examined his young, lineless hand with a frown, as though he sincerely missed the multitude of creases.  
  
"However, I find myself disinclined to waste time revelling in the success of the potion and far more interested in how to reverse it ... if it is possible at all. I don't believe anyone's ever attempted a cure for the fountain of youth."  
  
"Nobody's really succeeded and gone, 'Bugger, I do prefer being feeble and near death over vital and potent', no," Snape replies dryly. "To do so would -- well, you'd want age a permanent aging, a controlled withering-- and that sort of thing gets thick with the Dark quite fast, Albus." Which means Albus came to the right man -- one willing to do just that, if it really came to that, if he wanted to do that, be himself that desperately.  
  
Albus paced slowly, shaking his head as he considered the predicament.  
  
"And that is a path I am unwilling to take, Severus, but thank you for implying that I appeared near death." The insulting implication, however, seemed to bring a wry smile back to Albus's face and his eyes sparkled in a familiar way. "Is it so odd that I prefer living in the body that I have earned over long decades of work? I must confess," he took a glance down at his very slim, long arms with a slight frown, "that I did not enjoy being an adolescent the first time around."  
  
"You had a year," Snape reminds with the blunt force of a Norwegian Ridgeback. "And it was taking it's toll. The Village didn't bring you back to that misery, but -- face it, Albus. You were old." Says the man who turned thirty-nine and is barely an adult as far as the wizarding world concedes.  
  
But he undoes his overcloak, and the the woollen vest beneath and plucks out the flask beneath; there is not enough whisky in The Village for the conversations bound to follow, and he steels himself with a swallow of something that burns on the way down.  
  
He does, however, share. Albus has more then earned it.  
  
"It was unmitigated hell," he pronounces of his own youth. "Only the adulthood built on the mistakes of that youth was worse."  
  
Albus accepted the flask, but poured it into a cup of hot tea he managed to pull from thin air before handing it back to Severus.  
  
"At least I seem to have bypassed my awkward phase," Albus sighed, recalling the sensation of being what his mother called all elbows and wreaking havoc on delicate cups and saucers within a three foot radius. "Tea, Severus?"  
  
"Not today," he says, and tucks the flask back. He says nothing of his mother, because even the thoughts of her, pinched and unpleasant face and all, hurts his heart in a way few would suspect of him. Sentimentality is something he is given to -- but only under the snarly shield of disdain.  
  
"So what do you want to do?"  
  
Albus sipped his whiskey-laced tea and stared into the distance for a moment before shrugging elegantly.  
  
"I believe the only way out is through careful research, Grindelwald will have anticipated that I might attempt to enlist your expertise, and will have, no doubt, taken measures to complicate the production of an antidote. In the meantime, I mean to speak to the Headmaster about the change in my circumstances and what it may mean for my presence in the classroom."  
  
A genuine frown settled over young Albus's features at the thought of having to stop teaching at the school. However, he loathed the thought of confusing or distressing any of his students more than the prospect of having to find another way to pass his time.  
  
"I'm certain Herr Grindelwald will have thought of every contingency. Do you know how he dosed you? That might give us some scant clues." Provided the vessel wasn't cleaned by now. But oh, Albus worries and frets. "I imagine if they can put James bloody Potter in a class they'll be fine with you." Severus has managed to avoid the prat, but he knew he was there, raising a new generation of bullies, he was sure.  
  
Albus frowned for a moment, arching a dark red eyebrow above his glasses in a very familiar gesture. "I believe it was hidden in a tea pot that we shared, since we are both similarly effected." Albus's pale skin couldn't hide the pale blush that thinking about how Gellert had looked on his sofa this morning, half asleep.  
  
"I don't intend to attend school as a student, if that's what you mean, Severus."  
  
"One might note that James is teaching while he is still a student himself. Or ought to be, as he was a dunce in his day, unless it was grade a bullying." Severus worries that bone for a moment, before he returns to the issue at hand: "The Headmaster won't sack you, Albus. Unless you're worrying about young admirers causing issue in the classroom?"  
  
That's a laugh. Then again, it's nothing Snape ever had to worry about.  
  
Albus blushed, and felt the blush. It had been decades since he'd been flirted with (that he knew of), and shrugged the idea off quickly.  
  
"No, no, nothing like that, Severus. I sincerely doubt any problem of that sort will arise, and my years as a formal student have been over for over a century. I also doubt that the Headmaster will dismiss me, I do, however, want to hear any concerns he might have."  
  
"Doubt it, eh?" Severus' eyes are critical, and then he just cracks out a harsh laugh.  
  
Gryiffindors are so bloody stupid.  
  
"You'll be fine," is all he can say, and says, "But what of Herr Grindelwald?"  
  
 _Ah, yes. The question of the hour._  
  
Albus frowned, pacing the floor again as he considered.  
  
"I believe he has not broken any laws that The Village has set forth, taking legal action against him for giving what most would consider an invaluable gift would be a waste of everyone's time. I'll speak with him. I doubt he intends to use his new youth to make a bid for power here in The Village."  
  
"And personally?"  
  
You can take the spy out of the war ... But not the spy out of Severus Snape. All information is power, and while he is concerned for his friend's well being-- he needs to know if he's compromised by Gellert. He suspects not, but only Albus can assure him.  
  
"And personally," Albus said, his eyes fixed on something far away, outside of the window. "Nothing will change." He wondered how much Severus knew of how personally he and Gellert had known one another, and far from being irritated with the spy's insight, Albus found himself deeply grateful.  
  
"Youth and age have their respective strengths," Albus mused as he began to pace again with lionine grace, "and their respective weaknesses as well. I have already found my temper is far more readily provoked in this state."  
  
Snape has fragments of truth, snippets of fact, and half a letter with Lily's love upon it, speaking of a relationship with Gellert Grindelwald, folded up under a picture of a laughing, merry red-head that has been face down for some time.  
  
"Indeed. As I said -- I would not be seventeen again if you paid me all the gold in Gringot's," Snape replies dryly, but his answers is there: Albus has his personal conflict, but -- it will be managed.  
  
Albus smiled a little, nodding as he finished his tea, the cup disappearing soundlessly.  
  
"I'd best be on my way, I'm due to meet the Headmaster. Thank you, Severus-" the tall, redheaded wizard said, from the door. "For the sip of whiskey and the conversation. I will stop by very soon, no doubt. Perhaps if you're free sometime-" Albus smiled hopefully, "you might join me for dinner one evening. I hear there are some excellent establishments near by."

*                    *                    * 

The cafe was a familiar comfort to Albus Dumbledore, even if he doubted anyone inside would recognize him at the moment.  
  
Letting himself in and sitting at a small table near the window, Albus recalled that it was in this very cafe the day before that Gellert had tricked him into imbibing the devilishly tricky potion that had rendered them both young again ... at least in body.   
  
The suddenly young, red haired wizard had sent an owl to the Headmaster to discuss how to handle the inconvenience that the change might pose at the school where Albus enjoyed teaching transfiguration classes during the week. The Headmaster had, quite graciously, agreed to meet Albus at the cafe to see the alteration for himself.  
  
Albus had, he knew, received what most people would think of as an immeasurable gift, and though he disliked appearing ungrateful for the opportunity to revisit his seventeen year old body, he knew that Gellert hadn't conquered the (near) impossible magic as a thoughtful gift for Albus. No, he knew that as with all gifts it was the thought that counted and suspected Gellert thought only of himself when giving it. In addition, Albus had been truly comfortable in his older body, safe from the impulses that so plagued the young.  
  
For tonight, however, Albus accepted that it was best to carry on as usual, and so he ordered a pot of tea and read a book while he waited for the Headmaster.  
  
Will was stopping into for a bite when he noticed two things: a very strong magical presence, and a very attractive young man who appeared to be the source of said presence. Not one to ignore either of these things, much less both, he strolled on over to the young man's table. "Hello there. New in town?"  
  
It really wasn't like him to be so forward, but Will had loosened up considerably since he came to the Village.  
  
Albus looked up from his book, and paused for a moment, recognizing the boy who had approached his table.  
  
"Good Evening, and no-" he said gently, unsure of precisely how much he should explain at this point and to whom, "no, I'm not, but thank you so much for inquiring. You are Will, are you not?"  
  
"Yeah, that's me, alright." Will said. "Have we met, cause I think I'd remember." There was something familiar about the person, but Will couldn't quite figure it.  
  
Albus nodded with a peaceful smile, "We have, actually, but it was months ago. How have you been?" Albus sipped his tea, grateful for the distraction from his own dilemma.  
  
"Me? I'm just brilliant." Will said. "I'll have to admit that I've entirely forgotten your name, cutie."  
  
Albus coughed into his tea, having to set the cup down on it's saucer for a moment. He looked up, a brilliant pink blush flooding his pale cheeks.  
  
"Pardon me?" he asked, quite certain he'd misheard the boy.  
  
"Cutie." Will said again. "As in 'you are cute' which you entirely are. But then, I'm sure you're used to people noticing, aren't you?"  
  
"Oh ... dear," Albus sighed, still blushing brightly under his sky blue eyes, "My apologies, Will, I am in fact not used at all to being referred to as-" Albus blushed again and smiled a little, apologetically.  
  
"Will, perhaps you do not recall meeting me. It was a very nice day and I had taken up reading a stack of books on a bench in the park ..." He allowed the sentence to trail off, hoping the confused boy would remember without having to have Albus tell him who he was.  
  
"Scantily clad, I hope." Will said, grinning again. "Warm days and all that."  
  
Albus cleared his throat, feeling quite thoroughly flushed now. "Will," he gestured to the vacant chair at the table, "would you care to take a seat?"  
  
If the (truly) younger wizard were this confused as to his identity, the truth was probably best revealed to him in a sitting position.  
  
"I thought you'd never ask, red." Will said, sitting. "I'm guessing that's your natural color, right?" His grin broadened, thinking about that for a minute.  
  
"Yes," he answered, matter of factly, "it happens to be my natural color. Will," Albus began, "you might not remember me because when we met I-" Albus paused, frankly puzzled by the hungry way Will was looking at him. "I looked significantly older."  
  
"Oh?" Will was paying slightly less attention to the boy's words and slightly more attention to looking him over and wondering if he had on anything under his robe. "Well, whatever you're doing, I'd say keep it up."  
  
Will's eyes fell on the long red hair again. "That must be a chore to wash. I bet it would be much easier if you had someone to help you."  
  
The flush spread from Albus's cheeks to his hairline and he appeared to be speechless for a moment.  
  
 _This young man is flirting with me._  Flirting had changed quite a bit since the last time Albus had experienced it, in the heyday of the Victorian age.  
  
"My hair?" He swallowed, "Will, I'm certain I can manage on my own, but ... thank you. If you'll allow me to explain, my name is Albus Dumbledore." He sat back in his chair, allowing the mention of his name to assist the very, very confused boy's memory.  
  
The name was enough to finally get through Will's more hormonal interest in what he was seeing. "Albus?" He was a bit surprised, of course, but then Albus did have powerful magic, and suddenly the feeling of it did connect in Will's mind. "Is this an illusion of some sort?" If it were, it was an excellent one.  
  
"No," he sighed, "it's no illusion. I've been chosen, quite without my knowledge, as a test subject for a youth potion ... a rather well made youth potion, to be precise. Although I have all of my memories intact, my body has regressed to it's state at seventeen years of age."  
  
"Very impressive." Will said. "I congratulate whomever came up with it. It's something that most of the people in the world would do just about anything to have." He grins again. "Does everything work like you remember?"  
  
"Will-" Albus said, in his firmest headmaster's voice. However, he couldn't help but be amused by the boy's inquiry. "I ... think as a professor at the school you attend, it would be grossly inappropriate for me to answer your inquiry. Thank you."  
  
"In a word, rubbish." Will said, laughing a little. "Firstly, I'm not going to magic school. I did intend to go, but I've been involved in other projects for now."  
  
He leaned forward a bit. "And secondly, I'm not entirely a young man either, any more than you are. I'd say, though, that you aren't prepared for the effect that your new look will have on people. Even knowing who you are, I'm still hard-pressed not to wonder what you've got on under that robe."  
  
"Move over, Smiles." Gellert said as he pulled up a spare chair and added it to the small table to sit. He had been quietly observing Albus in the cafe for much of the afternoon, eager to see what he would do with his youth restored to him.  
  
He had expected that people might flirt with Albus, after all, he was gorgeous. But it had begun to reach a point where the German's tolerance and amusement waned to the point of confrontation. "How are you doing, Albus?"  
  
Albus's eyes narrowed as he regarded the blond boy who'd seated himself so abruptly. The usually patient wizard had all but tossed Gellert out of his suite this morning and shut the door (several of them) in his face.  
  
"Gellert," Albus said, in a stern tone, without the trace of a smile on his face, "Will and I were in the midst of a discussion. Would you please excuse us?"  
  
Will turned to look at the handsome arrival. "Oh I don't mind, Albus." There was a similar feeling of magical power about the blond, Gellert, as with Albus himself. "Who is your friend, and has he been drinking from the same magic cup?" Will's eyes did a bit of wandering over Gellert's geography as well.  
  
Albus smiled a little, "Yes Will," he said patiently, apparently not bothered in the least by Will's interest in Gellert as he returned to his book, a strand of fiery hair brushed against his white cheek. "Gellert is indeed the force behind my recent ... makeover, perhaps you two should take a long walk and discuss the matter."  
  
"Oh? I'm impressed." Will said, smiling. "Not just another pretty face, eh, Gellert? Tell me, are you blond all over?"  
  
Gellert laughed and briefly threw his arm around Will, patting him on the shoulder, laughing again. "So bold! Such a friend of yours, Albus ..." His eyes were clearly on Albus and none another, smiling at him, not minding Will so much, there was no harm in it.  
  
Albus's right eyebrow arched pointedly, but he did not allow any other physical expression of displeasure at the sight of Gellert with his arm around a good looking boy.  
  
 _After all, we are only friends. I have no formal claim on his affections, nor he on mine._  
  
Tension hummed through the handle of the tea cup that Albus had grasped, however, as though it feared for it's life between the red-haired boy's fine fingers.  
  
"And now a friend of yours, Gellert. My congratulations to you both, I expect you will get along famously. How is the jewellers business, Will? I'm certain Gellert will be fascinated, as he is easily distracted by most shiny objects." The handle of the porcelain tea cup began to heat up a fraction of a degree at a time.  
  
Will could read the tension and it wasn't hard to guess the dynamic, but he was having too much fun to back off just yet. "Oh it's just brilliant." Will said. "I do love being around pretty things. Gellert, my tasty looking friend, you'll have to tell me all of Albus' secrets. I can tell that he's the shy sort."  
  
"Well, not all of his secrets." Gellert smiled, "But he is very Victorian, you see, he cannot help himself. Personally, I like to make him blush. Then I know I've broken down those rigid social walls and caressed a nerve which better expresses one's thoughts and emotions."  
  
"Otherwise, how do I know what he feels? It's all hidden behind something so up-tightly British, it's difficult." Gellert reached across the table and poured himself his own cup of tea.  
  
"But worth it."  
  
"I understand that well enough." Will said. "I'm from Buckinghamshire myself, after all. So tell me, how did you manage to come up with the potion?" He gave Albus another appreciative look. "I don't have to ask why you did it."  
  
Albus inclined his head toward Will with a slight smile, "My thanks for coming to the defence of a fellow countryman, Will, that was quite kind of you."  
  
Perhaps it was Gellert's presence, perhaps it was the sudden surge of teenage adrenaline in the face of jealousy and outrage, but Albus actually smiled a little wider at Will.  
  
"Thank you, my dear -" he looked down at himself glancingly, "I must admit I haven't really had a chance to explore the full potential of my youthful state and it's been such a terribly long time that I've likely forgotten how. Are you very busy later tonight?"  
  
"Albus!" Gellert fixed his old friend with a look, frowning, "... are you ..." He sighed, sitting back in the chair.  _Strop trying to provoke me_. "He doesn't mean that how you think, Will. He's being a tease."  
  
Will got that, but figured he'd help Albus put the screws to his pretty friend. He leaned a touch closer to Albus, looking very interested. "Oh I'm definitely free, Albus. Not to worry, I'm sure it will all come back to you. I'm always there to help out a countryman through these concerns." He placed a hand lightly on one of Albus' forearms.  
  
Albus genuinely blushed at the unexpected touch. After all, Albus Dumbledore had lived his largely responsible, bookish, mature adolescence in Victorian England, a time and place where the glimpse of a stockinged ankle was scandalous.  
  
He cleared his throat a little as he patted the young man's hand, in a fond, though formal fashion, "Your support during this difficult time is much appreciated, Will. Thank you, it's been over a century since I've been a teenager as it's called these days, I may need someone to explain the reality of modern adolescence to me in detail."  
  
Despite what he was sure was a glowering look on Gellert's face, Albus had to admit, he was having fun.  
  
"Don't be silly." Gellert scoffed, "You'd rather learn about it from a book then anything practical!" He said, folding his arms so as to not tear Will's arm from its socket. "And anyway, he just likes you because you're a ginger."  
  
Will turned those blue eyes in Gellert's direction. "I like blonds too, sauce box. Would you like some helped with how things work as well? I'm sure I could find the time."  
  
"He needs no assistance in that department whatsoever!" Albus said, a little more sharply than he meant to. A moment's silence revealed that his heart was pounding wildly in his chest, and his skin was tingling and flushed pink. That was precisely the downside of youthful biology, it was so splendidly, horrifically reactive.  
  
Gellert grinned, "Thanks for the offer, Will, but Albus is right. I know exactly how things work, I might be old on the inside, but I've certainly not forgotten  _that_."  
  
"All to the good, then." Will said. His fingertips traced a slow circle on Albus' forearm. "Perhaps you could help me refresh Albus' memory, then."  
  
Albus moved his arm away gently as he picked up his cup of tea and took the last sip. "Alas, Will, I just remembered I have a pressing engagement this evening. I'm afraid all reminders and remembrances shall have to be deferred for the time being, but your offers are inspiring to say the least and I will not soon forget them-" _not even with therapy_.  
  
Albus pulled his book close to him and stood, "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'll make my way back to the Hotel for the rest of the evening."  
  
Gellert stood when Albus did. "Albus, you're such a liar ... the most pressing thing you have is that book to your chest!"  
  
Will stood slowly as well. "I would say that it sounds like there is definitely something pressing."  
  
It took every ounce of gentlemanly decorum Albus had not to burst out laughing. Instead, Albus nodded politely to them both.  
  
"I shall leave the two of you to what will doubtless be a highly intellectual debate, good evening."  
  
Albus turned and walked towards the door, gracefully, leaving Gellert alone with the strikingly handsome blue eyed wizard possessed of such quick wit. Opening the door and stepping outside was an unequivocal success, but within three steps, Albus found himself hesitant to leave the premises.  _There is absolutely nothing going on between Gellert and me. We have barely touched, I have made it clear that I am not interested in any entanglements with him ..._  
  
Albus sat in one of the outdoor chairs, looking up at the shimmering stars ahead.  
  
 _And since there is nothing at stake to lose, it stands to reason that I have nothing at all to fear, now, do I?_  
  
Gellert glanced to Will for a moment, smiling. Though this place was already a strange reality, it was not yet strange enough for Gellert to choose Will over Albus, ever. "You are something" he forcibly shook his hand, "But I'm going to walk the old man home."  
  
Will nodded slowly, his eyes abruptly rather timeless. "Be patient with him. It's very hard to confront the past."  
  
The moment passed, and he grinned impishly again. "Look me up, if things get too tense." Will winked.  
  
Gellert knew exactly what Will meant, in regards to both his comments. "Good man ... have a dream-filled evening." He grinned and turned away, walking out the door, standing just beside Albus. "Let's go. I can walk you home." He said, offering his arm like a gentleman, without his usual deviance.  
  
Albus sat in the chair a moment longer under the stars, an ethereal looking long figure against the dark of The Village streets beyond as he looked at Gellert. After a moment's consideration, the taller boy stood and threaded his arm through Gellert's, his hand resting on Gellert's bicep. They began to walk together, slowly, through the cobblestone streets, when Albus spoke, quietly.  
  
"The door was open, you know. I could not help hearing what you said."  
  
"Which part are you angry with me for?" Gellert asked, leaning slightly against Albus, wanting as much connection with the other man as he could get, while he could get it.  
  
"Are you referring to tonight?" The red head asked peacefully, letting Gellert's golden head rest against his shoulder. No one else's hair ever looked, or felt quite as soft as Gellert's did; almost like feathers.  
  
"What you overheard?" Gellert prompted.  
  
Albus smiled shyly.  
  
"Actually," he confessed, letting his fingertips linger against Gellert's warm arm, "I'm not angry at you, not at all."  
  
Will was a handsome, very bright, young, talented wizard. As far as Albus was concerned, Will had all of the attributes that Albus possessed when he and Gellert met. The knowledge that Gellert would pass Will up to 'walk the old man home' put Albus's beliefs about Gellert's cold manipulation of his affections to the test.  
  
 _There is nothing or little I can offer him in the way of power anymore_ , Albus reflected,  _and yet, he chose me._  
  
Not wanting to spoil the one time Albus wasn't upset with him, instead of saying something clever, Gellert just closed his eyes as they walked. He liked this feeling. It seemed unreal and the tightness in his stomach dissolved. Even though he couldn't see where he was going, each step with Albus was safe, just as dependable as the ground under his feet.  
  
They had just rounded a corner, still arm in arm when Albus asked, "Why did you allow me to win?" He wasn't referring to just then in the cafe, but to one of the most difficult days of his life, one of two that the celebrated wizard never spoke of.  
  
"You made your argument, and I trusted you knew best." Gellert opened his eyes, looking up at the side of Albus's neck and the spot just under his jaw, "I always have." That was the quick answer, still true, but not as involved as they could get into, if that's what Albus wanted.  
  
Albus laughed quietly, thoughtfully, "It was hardly as simple as meeting you for tea and telling you to surrender, Gellert. What did you expect of my visit back then?"  
  
There were many questions, many puzzles that had dwelled in the recesses of Albus's brilliant mind for years about that strange, terrible day.  
  
"I like making you laugh." Gellert said fondly, snuggling in closer like a needy, but affectionate pet.  
  
"... and I don't recall what I expected. I just remember that I wanted you to stay with me, that if things were going wrong, you'd stay and help ... I wasn't aware then, it was too late for that."  
  
Gellert clung to Albus a little tighter, "I surrendered because the alternative was ... it was clear, there was no alternative. You had no intention of staying with me, so I might as well submit, since that's what you came for."  
  
Albus nodded, mostly to himself, recalling the events of the day.  
  
The Minister for Magic had made it clear for weeks that if Grindelwald were not stopped, he would annex yet another country, and then another. Even then, Albus was still torn between his conscience and his reluctance to meet Gellert again, to face the past and what he'd done. Albus did not fear death, he feared the truth and the torturous way that the handsome, then-middle aged blond dictator would use it against him.  
  
Those were tense days, for all involved, and the night that Grindelwald's forces began to cross yet another border, something bizarre occurred.  
  
Albus received an owl from Gellert himself as though they'd never stopped scribbling notes between them. Albus had been formally invited to meet the dictator on the front lines, casually invited to tea in the midst of Grindelwald's headquarters. Albus had, of course, accepted.  
  
There had been a duel, certainly. A duel watched from soldiers a great distance away as both tempers flared out of control like aged explosives. In the midst of the fire and ice, the upheaval of the land under their feet and an entire mountainside melted into something akin to glass, Albus had lost his wand.  
  
And yet, he emerged from the wreckage of the duel as the clear victor.  
  
What he'd never revealed before was how.  
  
"I would never have allowed myself to be taken prisoner, Gellert. I made that clear enough, no matter how comfortable you think you could have kept me. But you know as well as I that holding the wand of power, it would have been easy enough to dispense with me, if not through death, through an enchanted madness, or memory loss. Europe could have been yours in it's entirety."  
  
"How much more transparent do you want it, Albus?" Gellert sighed, "There was no point in continuing if you were not going to be with me ... if I had truly lost perspective with no chance to repair the damage, then it  _should_  stop."  
  
His obedient admirers, all of Europe, even with the wand of power and the potential to collect all the Hallows, "I failed to deliver the world I had promised, you and your sister. I wasn't about to kill you for my inadequacies."  
  
Albus couldn't help but stop in the middle of the street, his arm still wound up with Gellert's slightly smaller, warmer arm through his own.  
  
"You mean to say-" he began, slowly, "that you surrendered everything you'd won and your own freedom because I made you see that I would never join you?" The idea was something from a fairy tale, or a fable. That some evil King would abdicate his throne for the love of someone lost long ago.  
  
Although he himself had educated many of his students as to the phenomenal power of love, which he called the oldest magic there was; Albus had never expected an event from his own lonely, long life to be an example.  
  
"Of course." Gellert frowned slightly, "Why else- Why do you think I stopped? Allowed myself to be imprisoned? To stay put ... because of all the things that I had done, that was the _one_ thing you actually _asked_ of me."  
  
Albus tilted his head, feeling a wave of heat rush up his long neck to his face as he stared eye to eye with the beautiful, blond boy opposite him. The face from which he'd never escape. "The wards you placed on Nurmengard, and mine as well were powerful enough that I'm not-"  _entirely_ , "convinced your escape would have been possible, Gellert. I was quite careful in that regard." And yet, if anyone could have escaped from that cursed tower, Gellert could have managed, even before Albus had died and the wards had waned somewhat.  
  
"Believe what you want, but I stayed because you told me to. It was my single and last opportunity to prove anything to you."  
  
"Forgive me, Gellert-" Albus laughed again, "but that hardly sounds like you." Something about Gellert's words brought a fragment of a foggy memory back to Albus's mind.  
  
"And while we're on the topic, Herr Grindelwald-" Albus said, fondly, beginning to talk with Gellert again. "I was told of your encounter with an old student of mine, Tom Riddle. I believe he demanded the wand."  
  
"Don't laugh at me." Gellert pulled his shoulders back with a frown.  
  
"And he was very rude."  
  
Albus stopped again, turning Gellert to face him by his thin shoulders.  
  
"Yes, Tom was often quite rude, unforgivably so unless there was something he wanted from those around him. I am surprised he didn't attempt to appeal to your political sentiments in an attempt to win information from you."  
  
It was dark by now, and the lamplight illuminated Albus's hair like a mane around his long face.  
  
"But he was  _rude._ " Gellert said again. "I had no intention of giving him what he wanted."  
  
"Of course not," Albus sighed. It had felt, just for a moment, that perhaps they were close to an understanding. He was usually good at sensing those things, the way a resolution hovered one difficult question away, but with Gellert his judgement felt clouded by the handsome boy's very presence. Things were difficult with Gellert, if only because Albus could feel his rational thought and objectivity slipping the moment their arms touched. It would be only too easy to fall into old habits.  
  
 _Another time_ , he thought, walking with Gellert once more, the hotel looming as they approached.  
  
"Were you aware that I had been entombed with the wand?"  
  
Gellert stopped them, "No! Why were you-" then he remembered, Albus had  _died_. That's why they were here, after all. But he hadn't known that at the time.   
  
"It's possible that under torture the man you stole the wand from may have identified you as the thief, my dear. Since it was I who emerged as the victor from our little confrontation in 1945, it's likely Tom put two and two together."  
  
Gellert pulled away from Albus, swearing in German. "FIRSTLY, Gregorovitch didn't know me and therefore didn't know to identify me ... you are the only one who knew I had the wand. And in turn, I was the only one to know that you took it from me."  
  
Albus paused, surprised again, "Ah, so it was Gregorovitch as you suspected all along ... you must still have been quite young when you appropriated the wand. Someone looking to trace the recent ownership of the wand of power would not have had a hard time making the connection between a very good looking boy with a wild smile and curly blond hair and a young man rising to power in the following decade with the same features, Gellert. Beyond conjecture," Albus spread his empty hands, "I do not know how Voldemort traced the wand back to you. It was certainly never my intent."  
  
Albus frowned, hesitating only a moment before wrapping a long, slender, purple robed arm around the outraged wizard's shoulders. "Come, let us speak of this inside where it is warmer. You've neglected to dress appropriately for the elements."  
  
Gellert dipped his head against Albus's shoulder, latching onto only one part of the sentence, "You think I am good looking?"  
  
Albus rolled his blue eyes in exasperation, and arranged his long, blue cloak with stars embroidered into the bottom around them both so that Gellert did not freeze in the sharp night air. At least he could attribute the redness of his face to the cold.

"My exact words were very good looking, Gellert, and ... yes. I and I'm sure the rest of The Village find you-" he searched for a moment for the safest description, "quite pleasant to behold. I'm sure you were aware of that long before you asked me just now, my dear."

  
"I don't care what the others think" though Gellert of course didn't mind if people felt the need to tell him how gorgeous he was, but truthfully, "Just what you think." He pushed his face against Albus's body, lost in his sweet smelling hair.  
  
Albus laughed again, dismayed to find that Gellert being this close to him had the same effect it always had, whether the charming, clever wizard was sixteen, sixty or one hundred and six. It was viciously unfair that the only person to have this intoxicating effect on Albus was the very person he knew he should stay away from, his equal and opposite in so many ways.  
  
"It's difficult to walk when you're clinging like this," Albus murmured, hiding behind his own hair in the gaslight, unable to stop his fingers from brushing through Gellert's outrageously soft curls.  
  
"Then maybe we shouldn't walk." Gellert stopped again, turning his head into Albus's hand, kissing the side of his face, just along his jaw.  
  
The spot on his bare jaw where Gellert had kissed him burned pleasantly and Albus swallowed, holding his own breath the way he had the first time Gellert had kissed him on the cheek, lips lingering, eyes green and gold and more beautiful than anything Albus had ever seen before or since.  
  
"Gellert." Albus's voice shook with emotion and he looked down at his hands. "Do you think that's wise?"  
  
"We're not going to get mauled by wild dogs in the street, if that's what you mean." Gellert said with a little smile, wrapping his arms around Albus's waist, kissing him again. Gellert's lips landed a little closer to Albus's mouth this time, just shy of the corner.  
  
"Gellert-" he laughed, unable to help his giddy, foolish response as his body warmed under the cloak. "Please, not here. At least let us-" Albus looked up and there were those eyes again, green and gold between pale eyelashes. After all of the years Albus had spent regretting what he'd done, what he had allowed to happen for the love of Gellert Grindelwald, he suddenly had the terrifying feeling that he'd learned nothing at all.  
  
Albus took a very small step back, licking his lips before he spoke quietly.  
  
"Let's go indoors, please." This is madness, "you're about to catch your death of cold, whatever possessed you to go out wearing only a shirt and trousers in this season?"  
  
"The sun was out." At the time. Gellert reached forward and held Albus's hand, following him easily.  
  
Albus sighed and led Gellert indoors, allowing their hands to touch until he stopped before the doorway that branched off towards Gellert's ground floor room.  
  
"This is where I must bid you goodnight."  
  
Gellert licked his lips, wanting to pull Albus with him, back to his room. "Are you sure?" He prompted, "If you're too tired to go all the way upstairs-" He wouldn't force him though, he'd already forced a great deal upon him.  
  
"I'll be fine, I'm sure." Albus replied with a soft, genuine smile, "but thank you, all the same and-" he swallowed over a sudden, inexplicable lump in his throat, "goodnight. I'll see you in the morning, no doubt."  
  
"Good night, Albus." Gellert reluctantly let go completely and placed his hand on the doorknob that led into his room, "How early?"  
  
Albus yawned into the back of his hand and laughed quietly, "Not before eight, please. It's a weekend, and I'm a growing boy who needs my sleep." Albus smiled over his shoulder and was gone.

*                    *                    * 

Since James seemed sequestered somewhere (most likely Lily's room down the hall) and Sirius had accomplished all the sleeping the weekend had allowed, he decided it was time to put his room to good use. Sirius pushed all of his and James's furniture against the walls, spread all the booze they had along the kitchen counter and enchanted the lights to shine different, dim colors against the walls. The Ramones seemed like the appropriate music for the situation and in no time at all  _I Wanna Be Sedated_  spilled out into the hallway through Sirius's open door.  
  
The finishing touch was a sign he tacked onto the wall opposite his room that read in large, sprawling black handwriting surrounded by dancing stick figures:  
 

OFFICIAL PARTY ROOM  
 

On a little table at the door, Sirius had laid three markers and a plethora of  _Hello, My Name Is_ : tags with a little sign.  _Help Yourselves!_  
  
A tall, pale, redheaded wizard poked his head into the loudest room on the floor with a slight frown and was met by a boy of about the same age with black hair and grey eyes who wore a dog collar.  
  
"Hello, hello, welcome to the official party of the Shut In! Here's your drink, grab a name tag and settle in. I'm Sirius by the way-" he looked the other boy over with a puzzled expression, "do I know you?"  
  
Albus smiled in return, quite willing to give Sirius a taste of his own medicine when it came to pranking.  
  
"I'm not sure," Albus began, innocently, "I don't think I've been here nearly as long as you have, but it's nice to meet you, Sirius."  
  
Sirius grinned, "I would have remembered seeing you around, not too many redheads in The Village-" he paused, "Oh, wait! My mate Will was talking about you." Sirius pointed Will out across the room and leaned closer, whispering, "He thinks you're cute!"  
  
"Oh ..." Albus blushed and took a drink of the sweet cocktail in an effort to cool his face, "Will is a lovely young man, but perhaps a little too free with compliments."  
  
The drink was, actually, quite nicely made. Albus recalled that Sirius had vied with Severus for top marks in potions every year.  
  
"Your party looks to be a great success, everyone appears to be enjoying themselves." Indeed everyone in the room had a smile on their faces and a drink in their hands.  
  
"And now you're here. Look! There's Will, go over and sit with him, I'm sure he'd like it!"  
  
Before the redheaded boy could protest, Sirius physically pushed him towards Will, hands on his back through the long wall of auburn hair. He had to admit, it was soft.  
  
"Your name is Elvis, right?"  
  
Albus nearly choked on his third sip of the liquor in a glass that Sirius had handed him, and had to pause for a moment in order to maintain his calm expression.  
  
"Yes, yes. I am Elvis-" he took a deep breath and extended his hand, "You must be Sirius, are you not?"  
  
"Right this way, Elvis ..." he looked back as he led the slender young man over to Will, "you don't really look much like an Elvis, mind you. Maybe if you lost the glasses."  
  
As a public service, Sirius reached over and plucked the glasses right off of Dumbledore's face, tucking them into his own back pocket.  
  
"There you go. Shaggable. Not my type, but shaggable."  
  
Albus actually sputtered for a second, completely taken aback. "Mr. Black ..." he began, "My apologies, but I didn't come to the party looking for an ... entanglement of any kind."  
  
"Oh, right." Sirius sighed, "Heard about your boyfriend, German bloke, isn't he? Blond? Pretty?"  
  
The redhead took a long, long drink after Sirius replied and Sirius quickly replaced it with another sweet cocktail.  
  
Albus shook his head quickly, "I assure you, I'm not involved with anyone. German or otherwise. Not at all, whatever you heard was a rumor. But Mr. Black-" The last thing he needed was for Gellert to hear they were a couple.  
  
Sirius interrupted, putting an arm around Albus's shoulders and guiding him to a seat near an impromptu dance floor. "Well then-" Sirius said cheerfully, sitting Albus down, "in that case, I'll clear up the misunderstanding. You just sit there, have a good time and don't worry your pretty little head about a thing, I'll keep making drinks!"  
  
Sirius wandered off into the crowd, leaving Albus a little bewildered.  
  
 _Pretty?_  He thought with an amused sigh, the boy must be quite drunk.

*                    *                    * 

The rumors Albus had heard circulating through the school regarding Sirius Black's unnaturally successful parties in the Gryffindor tower (and quite a few in other locations about the school ... including one disastrous attempt at a Gryffindor victory party inside the Slytherin common room) were one hundred percent true. Albus had allowed himself to relax, and even accepted the drinks that the black haired boy seemed to go to great lengths to make to his taste. They were, admittedly, delicious and Albus had to admit, he couldn't remember having quite so much fun.  
  
There was of course, one drawback.  
  
Albus was a little intoxicated. It seems any tolerance his body had built up over the years had vanished with the loss of age.  
  
He found himself standing in front of a door with gold numbers etched on it and watched his hand knock three times, squinting a little as he had misplaced his glasses somewhere strange after his first drink. As soon as Albus was finished knocking, however, he'd forgotten exactly why he was knocking on this innocent slab of wood in the first place and leaned his cheek against it's cold surface for just a moment, closing his eyes and drifting into a little snooze.  
  
It was heavenly to live only in the present moment, and presently the tall, slim wizard was napping against the door.  
  
Having seen red strands of hair pushed up against the eye hole in his door, Gellert opened the door automatically. Though as he did this, Albus fell directly against Gellert's chest, which the young man happily accepted, wrapping his arms around him in a hug. "Albus?" Perhaps it was past his bedtime and he was tired.  
  
"Gellert!" Albus exclaimed, hugging the blond boy back tightly. Everything around him seemed in motion, but when he opened his eyes, Gellert was there, blissfully solid and still.  
  
"Gellert-" the red haired boy began, "there you are. I was walking ... I was walking down the hall and I saw your door and then I remembered I hadn't seen you all day-" he smiled, and his bright blue eyes curved into crescents as Albus reached up and tugged on a ringlet near the back of Gellert's head, watching intently as he curled it around his finger.  
  
"I think, I was thinking ... Here's the thing ..." Albus took a deep breath as though he were about to make a grand proclamation and stopped, having caught sight of Gellert's ceiling.  
  
"Did you change your ceiling? How ... how on earth did my ceiling get in here!?" It did look just like Albus's ceiling, an ornately detailed tin design, but gold where Albus's was copper.  
  
"What's what-" Gellert's attention span shifted with Albus's focus, looking up to his ceiling with him, "It changed." He smiled at him, "Albus ... were you drinking?"  
  
"But ... the doors are locked. My ceiling couldn't possibly have come all the way downstairs-" Albus mumbled to himself, and then just laid down on the floor, watching the ceiling as though it might move again. "Drinking?" he asked, licking his lips thoughtfully as he laid his head on one outstretched arm, looking up at Gellert now.  
  
There. Much prettier than the ceiling.  
  
"What was the question?" He slurred a little, smiling mischievously.  
  
Gellert didn't need to ask again to know the answer. Hooking his arms under Albus's arms, he pulled his tall friend all the way into his room, allowing the door to close with a soft click. "It changed. Sometime during the night. After we went to sleep and before we woke up."  
  
"Does it do that often? It might be due to the ... if the magic can't get through the doors, it might have become trapped in here, pre- preress-" Albus laughed at himself, "My tongue seems broken. I can't even say repressed. You must think I'm quite sad, but yes, I have been drinking. Only two or three or ... well, I stopped counting, they just kept appearing in my hand and it would have been rude not to have them ... and they were good. Like candy, candy in a glass."  
  
He let out a deep sigh, looking at Gellert. As he'd discovered the last time he was intoxicated around Gellert on his 18th birthday, alcohol had a strange effect on the glib wizard. Albus lost his ability to bend and frame the truth into tactful, sometimes manipulative replies that were still technically true and his answers to any question put to him in this state were the truth, the blunt truth, and nothing but the truth.  
  
It was far, far worse than veritaserum, which Albus could still satisfy while framing his words to hint at a certain shade or hue of reality.  
  
"You're gorgeous ..." he sighed, wistfully.  
  
It had begun.  
  
Slipping down onto the floor, Gellert curled up against Albus's chest with a smile, "You think I'm gorgeous?" He knew this was how Albus felt intellectually about him; that people were attracted to his good looks and it was all common knowledge which Albus usually manipulated into as being something bad. He pushed his fingers through Albus's hair, brushing it back off his face.  
  
Albus laughed quietly, "Don't be thick, of course I do. I always have ..." he nodded a little like a child, "even when we duelled, even when you were in prison, and especially seeing you when we were older ... nothing could dampen your beauty. To be honest-" he shrugged, "I was always a little afraid that no matter how powerful we became, everyone would wonder why in the world you settled for a lump like me."  
  
"You're not a lump." Gellert hooked their arms and entangled their fingers, being close and affectionate while Albus would allow it. "My handsome lion, I love you." Gellert said this, speaking the truth though betting on Albus not remembering in the morning.  
  
Albus smiled and squeezed Gellert's hand, looking at their fingers where they were laced together. The memory of Gellert calling him that made him smile even wider and he pulled Gellert's head over so that it rested on his chest. Albus dragged his long, slim fingers through the curls slowly.  
  
"My patronus changed, you know, after you left ... and it never changed back."  
  
Gellert's curls always did remind him of gold feathers, just as the curl of Fawkes' brightest tail feathers brought back memories of the German boy's hair.  
  
"As well did mine." Gellert closed his eyes and hummed in his sing-song way. "Does that mean you love me?"  
  
Albus took a deep breath and nodded, his fingers still in Gellert's hair. "Yes," he replied simply, honestly, "I thought that much was obvious, wasn't it? To everyone?"  
  
"Are you ashamed that you do?" Gellert asked, remaining calm in Albus's arms, letting the man pet him. It was a familiarly he had been waiting a great many years to have back.  
  
Albus sighed, his voice dropping as he admitted, "Yes. It's ... not something I wanted to tell anyone after you left because-" he looked down at Gellert sadly, his vision still a little blurry around the edges without his glasses, "you left. I don't think anyone wants to admit someone they love left them behind. After you became the infamous Gellert Grindelwald, I wanted to admit it even less ... most especially to myself. You were responsible for some horrific things, darling."  
  
"Can you forgive me?" Gellert wrapped his arms around Albus's legs, hugging them.  
  
Albus sat up, using Gellert's weight against his legs as leverage and looked down at him with a small, amused smile. "Gellert, whether or not I've ever wanted to, whether or not I thought it might be wise, and though I know that what you've done to all those people ... all of those families is unforgivable ... I already have. The problem is forgiving myself for forgiving you."  
  
Gellert shifted in Albus's lap, turning his head to look up at him, sitting together as they might have once upon a time on a sunny afternoon in a field, getting fresh air from being inside the Dumbledore family library all day. "What do you want me to do?"  
  
Albus laughed sadly and leaned back on his hands, smiling at Gellert's blunt search for a solution to what seemed like an unsolvable problem.  
  
"I would need to know that you would never, never do anything of the sort again. I would need to know that you will never kill another person except to defend a direct, immediate threat to your own life or the life of another. But-" the red haired boy frowned, "I've asked myself time and time again whether I could really trust your promise on the subject. You enjoy power so much, even your considerable power over me, Gellert."  
  
Gellert did not deny his power over Albus or any other, but it was different. "I want to be together, Albus. This time, I will do it your way. I will do anything you want, I already have."  
  
"How will I know? You've made promises before, Gellert ... I ..." Albus stood, unsteadily, pacing as he did when he was troubled. "I don't know-" he began, the buzz of alcohol through his young veins allowing him to speak without hesitation or even tact, "what I'm more afraid of: being back together with you and having you break my heart once more, or being together with you and finding you've begun killing to quell anyone who opposes you again ... actually, they would both break my heart."  
  
Albus rubbed his face with his hands, tension showing in the stiff set of his shoulders. It was clearly something the wizard had carried with him for most of his life; the temptation to allow himself to love the man he adored without punishing himself.  
  
With the loss of his comfortable lap to rest his head on, Gellert sat up, watching Albus pace. For once his thoughts were not so erratic, but perfectly orderly. He had a solution to this. He was determined to prove to Albus what he'd been feeling all his life. He was absolutely devoted to him, even in the terrible ways he went about proving it before.  
  
"I'll take a vow. Of your wording."  
  
"What?" Albus turned, staring at Gellert, incredulously, "Gellert- I cannot even imagine what might happen to you that could be worse than  _death_  if you break a vow."  
  
And yet, the hyper-rational part of him sedated, Albus couldn't help but move closer, hope lighting his eyes. "You would do that?" He whispered, looking at Gellert as though seeing him clearly for the first time in a long while.  
  
Since technically he was already dead, Gellert had no doubt the punishment for breaking a vow would be far worse then anything he had ever imagined on his bad days. But that was not his concern. He had no intention of being unfaithful to Albus's wishes. Gellert had tried everything else. To the extreme. He would do this, too. Gellert's smile did not have it's usual mischievousness, but an honesty to it. "I have a wand, now." He said, producing the wand he had made for himself.  
  
"I will make the vow."  
  
Albus hesitated only a moment, clearly stunned, before he stepped closer, closing the distance between them.  
  
He licked his lips, and very slowly held out his hand, unable to help but blush as this reminded him of another sort of vow he was certain he and Gellert might have taken someday.  
  
"Then ... we shall."  
  
Gellert pulled himself to his feet, wand in hand, the magic in the air already shifting before a single spell was uttered. Gellert was not resisting, he was willing and prepared his mind and body to be occupied with Albus's magic and words.  
  
Albus licked his lips again and took Gellert's hand, staring at him for a long moment in silence. His blue eyes moved over Gellert's lovely, familiar face, the determination in his eyes and a fierce, devoted feeling rose in Albus's chest, the moment he allowed it to.  
  
 _Love_.  
  
He stepped closer to Gellert and opened his mouth to begin the vow, but instead took both of Gellert's hands in his own, staring into his eyes.  
  
"No," he murmured softly, shaking his head, "I believe you, and I don't need this now. If you break your promise, then I trust that hurting me again will be punishment enough because-" Albus swallowed, speaking softly, with a tremor in his usually strong voice, "I love you. I love you too much to become your jailer again."  
  
He pulled Gellert closer and kissed him, full on the lips.

*                    *                    * 

Generally speaking, the average child should not use any appliance that can cause a fire. This rule goes three-fold when that child is from an era in which appliances were very different than the ones they have immediate access to.  
  
Alice had been doing very well living on her own. Considering there hadn't been an accident thus far, one might say she was mostly and totally independent. Today, however, that would change.  
  
The young lady had decided to make cookies. Innocent enough, and the recipe itself was quite easy. One look at the clock after she had placed the cookie sheet in the oven told her to take them out at 5:43.  
  
She lay down on the sofa, daydreaming as always. There, she fell asleep.  
  
It was likely the strange odor in her apartment that awoke her. With a gasp, she shot upright and rushed to the kitchen. Gripping the oven's handle and thrusting it open, she could not even see the charred, crisp remains of what should have been lightly browned sugar cookies.  
  
The smoke that poured forth from the oven caused tears to spout from her already watery eyes. She screamed when a loud beeping erupted from seemingly nowhere. Alice hadn't a clue what a smoke detector was: she simply ran out of the smoke-filled room and into the hall.  
  
The little blond girl did not see the clock that read 6:25, nor had she closed the oven door. Smoke billowed from her apartment, a constant beeping ringing forth.  
  
Once in the hall, she dropped down onto her knees beside a wall. She held her hands over her ears, willing the awful sound away. Eleven year old girls from the 1800s really should not use conventional ovens.  
  
Deep in thought regarding the surprising turn of events over the weekend, Albus Dumbledore had taken to pacing the hallways of the hotel. As tipsy has he had been, Albus remembered everything with perfect clarity and although he hadn't planned on confessing his love for and kissing Gellert, he found it was surprisingly difficult to regret.  
  
The moment he'd allowed his feelings for Gellert to take hold in his heart, it had become impossible to cage them again. A simple, powerful joy flourished inside him since the events of the evening, and he appreciated the irony of finally feeling fully alive again after his death, but did not mind it in the least.  
  
Having just exited the stairwell and into another hallway, Albus's soft smile disappeared at the sound of a girl screaming. Alice was visible down the hall, covering her ears and cowering as smoke poured out of what was presumably her doorway.  
  
Several things happened at once.  
  
Albus reappeared beside the girl, then he and Alice apperated to the very end of the hallway. The red haired wizard vanished again, and the alarm and the smoke stopped within seconds and finally he reappeared with a cracking noise beside the frightened girl.  
  
"Alice ... Alice, my dear-" he said gently, a hand on her shoulder, "are you hurt?"  
  
The presence of the wizard had barely registered in Alice's mind. She felt a slight swooshing when they apparated, but ignored it as she was still lost in the horror of her kitchen disaster.  
  
She did notice when the beeping became a faraway, soft sound in her ears. It was fading even moreso after she was certain that someone had said her name: but that couldn't be so, she'd never talked to anyone on her floor before. How would there identify her by name?  
  
With a loud swallow, she decided to be brave and squeeze one eye open, excruciatingly slow. The other followed more swiftly, leaving her in shock that her immediate vision was not muddled with smoke. Each of her senses came crashing back down on her now that she was starting to refocus.  
  
The little blond couldn't smell smoke anymore: the good Lord only knows how that was possible! Where had the smoke gone?! She shrugged her shoulders weakly in thought, then gasped softly when she felt something there. With scared eyes, she glanced over to Albus.  
  
"He-hello?" She whispered, blinking back tears that were still sprouting from her reddened eyes. Alice couldn't be quite sure who this man was, other than her possible savior.  
  
Albus produced a pale blue, neatly folded handkerchief that smelled of lavender and handed it to Alice before looking her over quickly.  
  
"Hello, my dear. Are you alright?" Albus's voice was a little more urgent than it usually was, "Have you been burned?"  
  
Wizarding children were usually a little more resistant to damage from falls, and burns and the like than muggle children. After conjuring a small chair in the hallway, and sitting Alice down in it gently, the young looking wizard with long red hair crouched in front of her, keeping them at eye level.  
  
Alice thanked him softly for the handkerchief, wiping away tears. "I-I think I am."  
  
She turned her palms up to face her, then back down to inspect both sides of her hands. "I think only my hands would have had the opportunity to be burned," she began quietly. "and they are not." The blond remembered touching the stove, but very little else. The only real damage that had been done (other than the shock she'd been through) was a very soft layer of smoke covering her face and hair, and down part of her dress.  
  
The girl was silent for a few moments, looking down at her folded hands again. When she brought her eyes back to meet his, she cocked her head just so.  
  
Quite a bit more calm than before, she realized that she somehow recognized him, but wasn't sure how. She had not been paying attention to the magic he'd been performing, or she would have picked up on who he might be quite a bit sooner. She hadn't met a man with such long hair before, especially not in such a vibrant color; but when she looked into his gentle blue eyes, a twinkling of recognition came over her. Granted, she was still confused. "How do you know my name?"  
  
Albus smiled, and in response, conjured a cup of tea for Alice, handing it to her gently.  
  
"Does this help you remember? I look much younger than I did when we met last time, on my birthday, but I assure you, I am the same person."  
  
Alice's eyes grew wide. Taking the cup, she nodded slowly and took a sip. It was perfect, just sweet enough for her liking.  
  
"I remember you now," she started. Almost completely coherent again, she quickly remembered her manners and added, "Yes, Sir, I do. Your name is ... Albus, if I recall correctly? Albus Dumbledore?" Though his last name was not a name she'd heard before she had a very good memory, and the name itself was so unique that she would never forget it. "Was it some type of magic that has made you appear younger?"  
  
Albus nodded, once again charmed by the young lady's manners.  
  
"You have hit the nail exactly on the head, as they say-" he beamed at Alice, "I'm very glad to see you again, but-" he looked back at the open door that let the lingering smell of smoke escape into the hallway, "before we have a proper tea with cake, would you like me to help you clean up, as it were?"  
  
It truly had been a most delicious and beautiful cake he'd made for her on their last visit, and the memory of how delicious it was was almost enough to distract her from the fact that she'd done something bad (even if it was an accident).  
  
Alice gave him a nervous, shy look. "That would be very kind of you." Biting her bottom lip, she paused and looked down at her hands. "I'm sorry. I'm sure I made a dreadful mess."  
  
Albus paused, "No, my dear. Trust me, I've done far, far worse while I was in school. In my fourth year I set the canopy of my bed on fire ... by accident. Is there anyone I can notify? Your parent, or guardian in The Village?" He wondered to himself why in the world a girl of Alice's age, with limited experience in the working of modern appliances would be left alone to cook.  
  
Alice looked back up at him with wide eyes again when he mentioned his own accident. To her, both incidents seemed bad, but she was grateful that there had just been smoke with hers. Her bottom lip was still being nibbled on nervously. "Neither of my parents are here." A very short pause later, her voice softened significantly. "I live by myself." It is always better to tell the truth, after all. Up until today, she'd felt safe all alone in her little apartment. There had been no reason to feel strange about living on her own.  
  
Albus's face softened immediately and his blue eyes widened. No eleven year old child should ever be left to live on their own, especially not in a village possessed of unpredictable acts of magic.  
  
He swallowed, and spoke very, very gently, the contrast of her blond hair and the smoke streaks on her face reminding him forcibly of Arianna after a fit.  
  
"Has no one inquired after you in all this time, Alice?"  
  
Alice thought about how to answer that for a few moments. Slowly she shook her head. "No, I can't say that anyone has, Sir. There has not been such an awful accident until today, however." She added quickly, just to make sure that it was understood that she could mostly take care of herself: until things took a turn for the worse. She scrunched the small cloth in her hands, a guilty look plastered on her face. If it hadn't been for the fact that she thought Albus was a very nice man, which was heightened by his gentle tone, she likely would have burst into tears.  
  
"Alice," he smiled, "that you've lived on your own and managed not to have any accidents at all for this long is nothing short of remarkable-" Albus said, complementing the frightened young lady.  
  
"But there are many things to consider when everything is your responsibility, and if I say so myself, the best thing about being your age is not having to be quite so responsible." His eyes sparkled, "A time when all the worries of adulthood come upon you is not far off, believe me. I have no doubt you will become a very, very capable young lady, Alice. But perhaps that time is not quite yet. Do you agree?"  
  
Even after being taught how to properly behave and to conduct herself with good manners, Alice could rarely remember a time when anyone spoke to her as they would an adult. Albus's words did settle in to her mind easily, though she was surprised that he'd said something of such depth directly to her.  
  
"Thank you, Sir, I really have tried my best," she started with a nod. "Being responsible has never seemed to be a very hard thing to do. Although it is very hard when abnormal factors come into play." Alice had mostly been thinking aloud for her own benefit.  
  
"I'm uncertain of how exactly I can agree to that though, Sir," she continued, giving him a genuine look of concern. "It doesn't seem proper to agree to it. While I'm here, I'm the only person that can take care of me." Her eyes still held that same genuineness; she honestly believed that she was destined and burdened with being her sole protector.  
  
Albus beamed at her, "Perhaps, Alice, the best solution might be to live with a responsible adult until a time comes when you are old enough to be burdened with the appropriate pressures of adulthood. For example, I happen to occupy a rather large residence on the fifth floor that has a splendid guest room that could quite easily be altered to become a permanent room for a girl of your age."  
  
He nodded, quite seriously, but his eyes were soft behind the bronze, wire frame glasses perched on his nose. "I have had experience as guardian for many, many young people of your age in the past, and should you require references, I would be only too happy to oblige. Of course, you are free to change your mind and choose another guardian to live with provided that they are of age. You are under no pressure to agree, Alice-" he reminded her, "but I do enjoy your company very much, and it is strange for me, after many, many years at the school I ran, to live without company."  
  
She giggled softly at the notion of references. There was nothing about him that struck her as unsavory or unsafe, or as a guardian that she simply would not want to have. To her, Albus was a magnificent adult (which was so very rare in her own world, it seemed.)  
  
"You ran an entire school?" Alice asked, quite impressed at that notion. Remembering back to Albus's appearance when they'd first met, she realized it shouldn't have been a surprise that such a seasoned man might have done so much with his life: including running a school of great magnitude.  
  
While pondering the awe she felt, Alice also thought about just what it would mean to live with an adult again. "I honestly wouldn't want to be a bother to anyone," she said softly, meaning it though comprehending that it sounded foolish coming out of an eleven-year old's mouth. "Are you sure that you'd actually like for me to stay with you?" Hope nearly radiated from her eyes, though her lips were held in a way that suggested she was waiting for rejection. "I've always thought that it was only a parent's duty to care for children." The obligation had thus gone to her, since her parents were not there.  
  
She did not include the fact that she would have no one else to stay with, although Albus could have made that conclusion by himself.  
  
"I have run an entire school," Albus confirmed, "much like the magic school here, only much larger, and all the students lived there."  
  
He smiled again, patiently. "I am certain, Alice, that you would not be a burden. I was not exaggerating or merely being polite when I said that I enjoy your company. As I said before, you are under no pressure to stay, but I would sleep sounder if I knew you were protected and able to enjoy the world as a girl of your age should."  
  
For the first time since she'd ran out of her room and away from the dreadful mess she'd made, Alice's face lit up in an actual smile. "That makes me happy to hear, Sir." She said, visibly relaxing as the last bits of stress and tension left her. "I would very much like to live with you. I can help clean too," she noted, not thinking in the least that magic might take care of that. She also made particular attention not to mention her culinary skills.  
  
Albus smiled widely, "That would be nice, of course, but first things first." The tip of Albus's wand glowed pale purple and he held it out for Alice to take. "We should collect your belongings, my dear. Here, take this, touch it only to the items you wish to bring with you ... as you do, they will disappear and reappear in our suite on the fifth floor."  
  
Alice beamed as she took the wand. It was possibly the most exciting in her entire life that she'd just been given a real magic wand to use, even if just for a little while. "That sounds very extraordinary!" She said, still seated and looking at the wand with wide, amazed eyes. Wanting to see it in action, she stood and quickly (though she did not run), made her way to her room.  
  
With only a few possessions, it didn't take her long, but with the tap of the wand to each item, she gasped loudly and smiled brightly in amazement. Rejoining Albus, she handed the wand back with that smile still on her face. "That's the most amazing thing I've ever seen, Sir. I believe you, that it really works, but I can't wait to actually see my things in your- our suite." It wouldn't take her long to adjust living with someone else again, especially when she was already so excited about the move.  
  
"Do you know if it's alright to move into another room of your own will here?" She asked, suddenly worried about what the staff of the hotel might think. Her room would be empty: shouldn't someone know about that?  
  
Pleased that his attempt to allow Alice to feel a part of the magical community had worked, Albus beamed back at the small, blond girl and took his wand back gently.  
  
"I'm certain the hotel shall accommodate the change nearly instantly, and more to that end-" he said, holding the door open for Alice, "that you might find your room upstairs designed less like a guest room in my quarters and more like a room of your own to your liking. I have a feeling about these sorts of things, and they usually turn out to be correct. Shall we go and see?"  
  
The girl's excitement was contagious, and he was reminded of the burst of energy that every new wave of first years brought to the castle in September.  
  
If Albus' magic could perform the amazing feats that she had witnessed thus far, she was certain that the magic of The Village would make the guest room into a bedroom suited for her.  
  
"That would be lovely!" She said, smiling brightly. Reaching out, she gently grabbed his hand to hold. She didn't consider the fact that this would be strange in any way; she was starting to think of him as someone who she would grow close to, that would care for her, like family.  
  
Taking a step into the doorway, she looked back to Albus with a thoughtful expression. "I have an important question, although I think it might be improper of me to ask. I've noticed that the other children here generally don't follow the normal guidelines of manners when addressing adults. I've thought it alright, as they come from different times than myself. It's likely something that's more casual, but...would you prefer that I call you by your name rather than Sir?" Her cheeks had turned a soft shade of pink at the context of her speech. It wasn't something she could have asked any adult from her own world.  
  
The hand Alice took squeezed back, gently, a reassuring gesture from the tall wizard who smiled widely. "You may, of course, call me Albus. All of my friends do ... or rather I wish they would. Some of them will, I'm afraid, never stop calling me professor."  
  
They walked down the hallway together, and Albus couldn't help but be reminded of Ariana snatching at his hand when they ventured outdoors at night to get a little air.  
  
"I trust you prefer to be called Alice, but if you've ever fancied another name, I will do my best to oblige." His azure eyes twinkled behind his gold wire framed half moon glasses as they stood before the elevator.

*                    *                    * 

It was always a pity, Albus thought, when the Christmas decorations had to come down at the beginning of the new school term. Yet, everything had it's literal season, and despite his love for the twinkle of fairy lights and frosted boughs, if they were left up all year, even the most festive of trimmings would lose their allure.  
  
Albus Dumbledore stood outside of the magic school in winter robes, charming the last of the swags of lit greenery from the over the windows and doors of the building. The decorations packed themselves neatly in wooden crates, and the fairies, thanked by Albus for their service, migrated into the forest.  
  
Christmas had been wonderful this year. Aside from his visits to friends in The Village, Albus had divided his time between Alice and Gellert ... separately. He knew that they should meet, that it was inevitable, and yet it was much easier said than done.  
  
Gellert grew happier and more carefree every day, more like the fascinating boy he was that summer long ago, and conversely Alice, clever Alice reminded Albus of the girl Ariana might have grown to be, had she not met with her tragedy so early in life.  
  
Despite his best intentions, and his most rational efforts, Albus could not help but be reluctant to introduce the two most important people in his life to one another. With his mind full of such matters, he finished removing the last of the decorations and closed the lid on the wooden crate, watching the last group of fairies journey into the woods with a sigh.  
  
Though Albus had told him to stay away from the school, Gellert was beginning to slip into a dark place. Unable to wait until the end of the day, which was when he usually saw Albus, Gellert sought him out at school and hoped the other man would not be too angry with him. Though, as Gellert had come to learn since coming to The Village, Albus had every right to be cautiously protective of the school and its students.  
  
Gellert had come to learn a great many terrible truths which he had never before understood, until recently. And while his failures had always haunted him, as he conducted his reclusive research, Gellert was finally seeing how his good intentions had been warped to destroyed the lives of so many.  
  
Watching Albus quietly, Gellert could feel the muscles in his chest tighten anxiously. It wasn't in him to be cheerful just then.  
  
Sensing, rather than hearing Gellert's approach behind him, Albus paused in his task and turned.  
  
"Gellert?" He tilted his head before approaching the other, usually exuberant boy. He had warned Gellert to stay away from the school, and would have been vexed by Gellert's lack of respect for his wishes, had the boy not looked so ... distressed. His usually bright eyes were dim and the rose of youth and impetuosity had left his cheeks.  
  
"Is everything alright?" Albus asked, his mind conjuring a hundred thousand possible emergencies ... but not one that would have resulted in Gellert's current melancholy.  
  
"Albus." Gellert cried with a pain that had no physical manifestation. Wrapping his arms around Albus as tight as he could manage, he pushed his head into Albus's neck, his breathing was broken and exasperated all at once.  
  
Albus felt as though he caught the other boy in his arms, and for a moment, he struggled for the right response. "Gellert-" he whispered, frowning in concern, his own eyes going a little dark with worry. "Gellert, what's happened?"  
  
He pulled back, just enough to look Gellert in the face. "Are you hurt? Injured? Is someone else?"  
  
"... sorry ... foreverything." As much as he wanted to be in Albus's arms, that how much Gellert fought himself to pull back. He didn't want to be here anymore. He had been so happy with his own truth and ideals. Reading the history books, from around the world, had destroyed Gellert's vision. It was clear to him now, the world at large had never understood his intentions. Any good he had meant to bring to the world was lost in manipulated propaganda.  
  
"I don't understand ..." Gellert pressed the palms of his hands over his face to wipe away the burning tears. "I want to go home ... I want my bird ... my head ... it hurts, Albus."  
  
"Hold on," Albus whispered.  
  
A moment later they stood together in Gellert's chambers together, Albus still keeping Gellert close to him as he wept. Books of every size and many languages covered the floor haphazardly as though they'd been thrown there and Albus could tell from a glance at the titles that they were books on the history of what the muggles called "The Second World War" ... and what wizards called the "Rein of Grindelwald".  
  
Dumbledore produced a pale blue handkerchief and presented it to Gellert, watching him with interest. "Is this what you've been up to all this time?" After Alice had become Albus's ward, he had, admittedly, distanced himself from Gellert. What surprised him the most was that Gellert did not seem to put up a fight about Albus's changed mind. Rather, he seemed to fill the time with something that Albus knew he had been keeping secret.  
  
It may have been nothing more then the trick of the light in the room crowed with books, but Gellert almost visibly aged with his distress. He wasn't thinking clearly. He didn't want Albus to see the mess of books. He hadn't even meant to cry in front of him or say the things he said. But his head hurt, horribly, to the point where it was beginning to seem like a good idea to pick up the fountain pen on his desk and push it through his temple to relieve the pain.  
  
He shouldn't have gone to Albus at all. "Go away!" He wasn't thinking properly.  
  
Truly worried now, Albus shook his head and took Gellert by the arms. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that would be very wise right now." Dumbledore led Gellert to the couch where they had spent so many evenings conversing lately, conversing and not touching.  
  
They sat together and Albus conjured a cool glass of water, offering it to the blond wizard. "Here, this will help ... drink and then tell me what's happened, in your own words."  
  
At the offered glass of water, Gellert began to laugh, the madness he should have displayed while in prison was beginning to well up in him now. "I am not a student of yours, Albus! This will not end in you giving me a cookie, patting me on the back after a few careful words and sending me on my way!"  
  
Gellert stood. Where Albus was a lion who roared, Gellert was a bird which screamed (not screeched). "There will be no calm and rational conversations for us tonight, Albus! This is what you wanted for me, anyway- to feel remorse." His face began to flux between paper white and deep crimson.  
  
"I want to go home ... let me go home!" The last statement was directed moreso at The Village then at Albus.  
  
Albus didn't move from his place on the sofa, but watched Gellert with a pained expression of his own.  
  
"Gellert, going home will not solve this-" he said, calmly, gravely, "it will not undo the knowledge you have now. You've died at home, do you remember? You are here, now, most likely for good."  
  
The red haired wizard took a deep breath, his expression making him seem much older too. "This is the first step, and though it's painful, Gellert, it's necessary ... I never wanted to put you in pain."  
  
Gellert cursed Albus's name, "Of course you wanted me in pain, you say yourself ... it is necessary! To crush everything ... to take the burden off of you, from feeling my guilt, for me! You should have killed me, yourself! But you wanted me to suffer. All this, I could have done for you, Albus, had I known these things ..."  
  
Albus crossed the room in an instant, his hands on Gellert's arms, confusion and pain writ large across his features. "Gellert!" he exclaimed, shaking his head, "Never. I have never, never wanted you to suffer for my sake, I have never wanted to harm you! Do you have any idea how terrible it was for me to duel you? Even then at the height of your power and ignorance!? It was one of the worst days of my life, Gellert." He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Only Gellert could make him react like this, could make him fly apart at the seams of his carefully cultivated serenity.  
  
"Please," he said, more quietly, "please never imagine that I wanted you dead. This is necessary, the pain of regret, for your own good. For years you've been fixated on the lie of your own success, but now that you've seen what it really cost, now that you've seen the truth of what it meant for the rest of the world ... only now can you move on from it, on to something worth your abilities, Gellert."  
  
"We're DEAD Albus, there is nothing to do- What accomplishments I believed in life- Nothing! Wasted!"  
  
Gellert struggled for words, his anger was making his sentences incomplete and sounding more like German and less like English. "This is all I have done!" He said, picking up the nearest book and showing Albus the cover which had the image of several dozen children with shaved heads, boys and girls alike, all looking with the same emptiness. The text was several hundred pages thick and discussed  _Die Endlösung,_  The Final Solution. "This is me!"  
  
Reading from the German, French, Russian, Polish and English texts, Gellert had pieced together what had happened outside the walls of his castle. It was horrific for him, to be able to read these things, see where his own writing had clearly been used, altered, and adapted for someone elses gain. And because the original idea was still his own, he was at fault. He was to blame, for everything.  
  
It had been years since the world had first those photos, but Albus felt the same wordless horror and shame he had when he'd seen them for the first time. They weren't Gellert's work, the camps, not directly. But he was right, the squib that had become Gellert's muggle equivalent in the world at the time had been enamored with his work, with his ideas and carried out his interpretation in the muggle world.  
  
Gellert was not the man behind those particular atrocities, but it was undeniable that he was responsible.  
  
As he looked into Gellert's face, contorted with fury and grief at the truth of what he'd done, Albus could summon no pleasure at the sight of Gellert's remorse, no matter how fervently he'd wished it would come. Gellert's swollen eyes overflowed with tears, and his skin looked burnt raw with salt.  
  
"I must," Albus said, very gently, unable to look away from Gellert's tortured expression, "bear some of the blame ... if I had not advised you as I did, if I had not encouraged you-"  
  
"HOW DARE YOU." Gellert roared, perhaps that was the only way a lion like Albus could understand him.  
  
Albus was wrong. He was dead, wrong. This was Gellert's burden to bear; Albus had no right to try and take it on as his own. The upheaval and violence the world knew because of Gellert Grindelwald had absolutely nothing to do with those two months during the summer, in their youth.  
  
"How strange that you should guard your guilt in such a horrific matter so jealously ..." he mused, almost to himself.  
  
Gellert didn't answer, and Albus could not stop himself from asking, softly, "Would this still have occurred if we had never met, Gellert? If you had never heard my name, if I had never shared my thoughts with you would your life have gone on wholly unchanged?"  
  
"You are horrible, Albus. Why are you being horrible to me?"  
  
"My quest was set in stone before we ever met, you know this. And when we spoke, I wanted you to be apart of that journey. So it is, of course you changed my life! For the first time, I wanted to share! If we had not met, I would have followed my path ... but not have felt this guilt, this shame! Perhaps, if we had never met, you would have stopped me sooner, you would have had no hesitation. That is all."  
  
 _And yet, I cannot bring myself to wish we had never met ..._  
  
Easing the thick book from Gellert's fine hand, Albus walked it to an end table beside the couch and set it there gently, smoothing the cover with his hand. The rest of the room seemed torn apart upon closer inspection, and he had no doubt that Gellert hadn't given over to his present state of mind only recently. Gellert's usually slender frame looked slightly starved and beneath his rage, Albus could find traces of exhaustion haunting his features.  
  
"How long has it been since you've slept?" Albus asked softly, still looking down at the faces on the cover of the book.  
  
After a long pause, Gellert took a deep breath in, laughing lightly upon exhale. "This is not nap time."  
  
He could not stop himself from smiling before he turned to face Gellert, who looked ready to collapse. "The pain of your epiphany is neither the sort that will fade quickly, nor mild enough to be withstood by one who is nearly ill with self-neglect." Albus crossed the room gracefully, and looked down into Gellert's drawn face with unguarded concern.  
  
"I do not like you right now." Gellert said, wrapping his arms over Albus's set-back shoulders. Hiding his face against his chest and neck, Gellert sighed, too tired to think.  
  
Feeling Gellert's pointed face, hot with tears pressed against his neck, Albus folded his arms around the other boy carefully, cherishing the long-familiar narrowness of his waist beneath his coat.  
  
"How unfortunate," Albus whispered, his blue eyes closing as he laid his cheek against the top of Gellert's head, against his feather-like curls, "because I happen to be alarmingly proud of you at the moment." His voice shook a little with emotion as he held Gellert close, thankful that he was able to witness the painful realization that Albus had hoped deep in his heart would come.  
  
"Shh." Gellert mumbled.  
  
With the exception of one (intoxicated) occasion, Albus had remained cautious with Gellert. Despite staying over in the blond wizard's rooms some nights before Alice became his ward and room-mate, their interaction was kept intellectual by Albus's reluctance, and Gellert had known not to press the issue.  
  
In the low light of the half-broken room, Albus cupped Gellert's face in his long-fingered hands and looked into his eyes, searching for the arrogance that his unwavering belief in his own righteousness had instilled.  
  
For the first time since they were boys together, Gellert's eyes were clear despite their sorrow.  
  
"Come with me," Albus said, reassuringly, "you need to rest and eat somewhere away from this mess."  
  
"Stop it." Turning his head away sharply, Gellert avoided the intended comforting touch. "I am not going anywhere. You should go now." He said, pulling away completely; not really knowing what to do with himself, he began pacing, into the kitchen, then back out again.  
  
Albus sighed quietly, watching Gellert move about the chaotic rooms like a distressed bird. "I have no intention of leaving you alone, at least not tonight, my dear." To prove his point, Albus sat smoothly in an arm chair near the cold fireplace and with a sweep of his wand, started a blaze in the hearth. "But I do have a guest in my rooms, it would be outstandingly rude of me not to return."  
  
"Go then. Go." Gellert said, picking up armfuls of books as he began to sort them into piles. First by in which language they were written, secondly, by thickness. The larger books were placed on the bottom, while smaller books were balanced on the top. "I am busy."  
  
Albus watched Gellert. "Busy or no, you must think me a fool if you expect me to leave you to your own disappointment and despair. I know you, Gellert, and I know you will punish yourself most severely when you least deserve it." Albus sighed, not taking his eyes from him for an instant.  
  
Albus stood, serenely, the light from the fire illuminating the red of his hair, "Please, Gellert, come with me."  
  
Whatever calm Gellert had managed to keep for appearances dissipated once more, "Least deserve it?! Foolish OLD MAN!" Gellert threw a book at Albus, then another, and another. "Have you not been paying attention?!"  
  
The books halted in mid-air with a languid wave of Albus's hand.  
  
"I understand you're upset, Gellert. I understand you'd rather be alone ... but if you will not allow yourself to come upstairs with me for your own safety then consider doing it as a favor to me if you would."  
  
Albus sighed, knowing this was hardly the time to have this discussion. "I have acquired a room-mate recently, a child. She is too young to spend the night alone in the suites and I would prefer not to have to choose between being down here worrying for her welfare and being up there worried for yours."  
  
Skin once more fading into a sickly white, nearly grey around his eyes, Gellert swallowed a hard lump in his throat. "How could you think I should be let anywhere near her." In a way, he already assumed the mystery guest was Ariana. He could not face that.  
  
Albus drew closer again, putting one hand on Gellert's over-warm shoulder. The feverish temperature of his skin and the pallor under his exhausted eyes reminded him forcibly of Fawkes on a burning day. "I doubt you have ever had such profound respect for the safety of others as you do now. You've taken inventory of all that you accomplished and all that you regret as agonizing as it is to do so. I trust you, Gellert. I would trust you with all that I hold dear and know that I would not be unwise to do so."  
  
"You're a fool." Gellert said quietly. All he had ever actually accomplished with his life was to disappoint Albus Dumbledore. It would surely not end, now.  
  
"But I submit to your better judgment." It was not unlike the wording he had used on the day he and Albus duelled, on the day he surrendered.  
  
"Thank you," he murmured, smiling gently, an expression that softened his long face as his eyes sparkled. Albus's hand slid from Gellert's shoulder down to his hand.  
  
"Then come with me, please." He squeezed Gellert's hand and extinguished the fire in the room with his wand as he led Gellert out of his suite and into the elevator.

*                    *                    *

Be careful what you wish for, a wise man had once said, you just might get it.  
  
Two weeks had passed since Gellert's remarkable revelation. Albus guessed, easily, that Gellert's room was still littered with piles of books, muggle and wizarding alike about the war in both worlds that the golden-haired dictator had spawned; books filled with graphic images of the worst outcome of the conflict: starved, shaved bald bodies lying in piles.  
  
Remorse, true remorse, was what Albus knew would save Gellert from the peril of his own arrogance, and after discovering what the gritty reality of his 'revolution' entailed, Gellert had been wracked with guilt. Even Albus, who had already witnessed the devastation of the worst of the war first hand long ago found it difficult to forget the haunted, sunken faces of the dead in those photos, particularly the children.  
  
Indeed, Gellert had been so disgusted, and so violently ashamed of what his idealism and lust for power brought about that Albus had refused to leave Gellert alone for fear he might, as Gellert was prone to do, act rashly.  
  
That had been two weeks ago, to the day, and as strong and wilful as Gellert usually was, he seemed broken by the truth. He hadn't left Albus's room in days, not coming out to meet Alice, nor even to eat. Even when Albus tried to engage him in conversation, the German responded as little as possible, lost in thought as he stared out of the window at a tree beyond.  
  
The change in Gellert was painful to behold, no matter how much he deserved to suffer it in the eyes of those he and his empire had damaged or destroyed; including Albus Dumbledore. Remorse burned through the brilliant 'young' wizard like a fever, hopefully doing more good as a purging fire than permanent harm. Albus watched Gellert closely, hoping that like Fawkes emerging from a burning day, small and drab, he would gain new strength.  
  
Upon having returned home from another day at the school, before Alice had returned from hers, Albus knocked on the door to his own room softly and opened it a crack.  
  
"Gellert?"  
  
"Yes. I am here." Gellert sighed. Usually when Albus returned to him at the end of the day, he said nothing; there was nothing left to say. But it had become reassuring, something to depend upon, to know that at the end of each day, Albus would still return to him.  
  
Leaving the door open a crack behind him, Albus walked to the deep blue armchair at the side of what was usually his bed and sat down gracefully, as he removed his winter cloak.  
  
"It's good to see you awake" he smiled softly. Gellert's face had a little more color today, and his usually brilliant green eyes weren't quite as dull as they had been. "You've washed your hair." He observed, noting the renewed spring of his friend's golden curls, a distinct improvement from his sickly appearance this morning.  
  
"Yes. I Bathed." Gellert smoothed his clammy hands over the fabric of his robes as he looked past Albus to the open door; tense and quiet, listening to see if they were alone. Even though he heard nothing from the other room, Gellert was still concerned.  
  
"And you've borrowed one of my robes, I see" he smiled, far from displeased by the fact. "I imagine it must trail on the ground a little." Gellert had wrapped himself in an emerald green robe of Albus's, which seemed much more fashionable on the other boy's frame. Albus suspected, however, that would be true of every article of clothing he owned.  
  
He leaned back a little in the comfortable chair where he'd slept every night with his feet on the corner of the bed that Gellert occupied. Despite their impulsive (and somewhat inebriated) kiss months ago, Albus had maintained a careful physical distance from Gellert and Gellert had never brought the subject up again.  
  
"I don't suppose you've eaten as well, have you?"  
  
"I've eaten." Gellert said quietly in his defence. Though if questioned further, he would be unable to recall exactly what he consumed, or when. He did not understand how Albus could look so relaxed, so calm, going on from day to day; except that he reminded himself, Albus had many more years practice at it then he had.  
  
"It's lovely outside," Albus glanced out of his bedroom window at the blue winter sky beyond, "since you've dressed, might you consider accompanying me for a short walk? There's a wonderful new chocolatier in town, and it would be a shame to make the first trip alone. Besides," Albus's eyes sparkled, "since my taste in sweets is so indiscriminate, your far more selective opinion might come in handy."  
  
With a wave of his wand, the window opened, admitting some fresh air to tempt the other boy into venturing outdoors.  
  
There were people outside, even in winter, so many people in such a small place. Gellert found no comfort in this. He had seen images of trains, with cattle cars full of people, so many people, too many people, in such a small place.  
  
"You delight in your promiscuous enjoyment of sweets. Why would you want someone critical to ruin your enjoyment?"  
  
It was difficult, sometimes, to know whether Gellert was sensible of his slips of the tongue or not, but Albus laughed, his pale skin flushing very slightly under his eyeglasses. He moved the chair a little closer to the side of the bed and conjured a hot cup of tea for them both, which hovered in the air between them.  
  
"I think perhaps you might misunderstand the full meaning of that word, Gellert, what you're suggesting is-" he took his cup from the air, "inventive, certainly, but impractical."  
  
Plucking the cup of tea out of the air, Gellert frowned, almost pouting that his usage of English was still at times, imprecise.  
  
"Why do you want me to come with you? You laugh ... you find fault in my comments. I am wrong. I am wrong too much."  
  
"Gellert," Albus moved from the chair to the edge of the bed, frowning a little as he left his tea hovering in the air behind him, spinning slowly like some miniature, china earth. He reached over and settled a hand on Gellert's slender forearm.  
  
"You have been in this room for two weeks, however you may feel about your own health, it's quite painful for me to watch you punish yourself so. Please, if only for my peace of mind, will you consider coming outside?"  
  
For Albus, anything. Gellert grumbled indistinctly, looking at the hand on his arm. "I do not wish to speak to anyone."  
  
"Very well," Albus replied, rising and extending his hand, "you need not converse with anyone, for once in our lives I will do the talking. Is that acceptable?" Despite Gellert's depressed mood, Albus couldn't help his lips from curving into a gentle, amused smile as he waited.  
  
"Yes." Gellert stood, keeping close to Albus. He imagined anyone who could get this close, just the mere proximity, could be comforted by Albus Dumbledore. Abandoning his tea cup on the windowsill, Gellert left the bedroom for the first time, since Albus had asked him to stay. Apart of him was concerned, that after their outing, Gellert would not receive the same open invitation to stay. And he  _wanted_  to stay.  
  
Alice turned the door-knob of the suite, practically brimming with excitement over her day at school. Today was the first day she'd used a computer, and she was absolutely fascinated by it. She knew that it was not powered by magic, but by some innovative technology. Still, she wondered if Albus had used one at all before. She was very excited to tell him all about it, either way!  
  
Her eyes widened just slightly when she saw Gellert. Even though she'd heard about a close friend of Albus's that lived there, she'd never met or seen him before. She looked between the two young men with a smile, curtsying to them. "Hello."  
  
"Good afternoon, Alice."  
  
Albus smiled after putting a hand on the small of Gellert's back to steady him. He had, of course, wanted to introduce his young roommate and their guest. Any hesitation he had felt before out of concern for Alice had evaporated since Gellert had begun staying with them. He knew that in his current state of mind Gellert would be far from careless. Indeed, it was more likely that Gellert would be hurt by the reminder of Ariana than Alice would be by anything Gellert would do or say.  
  
"Welcome back, this is my friend, Gellert. He's been a little unwell lately, but we were about to take a walk outside. Would you care to join us?"  
  
Ariana. For a moment, Gellert couldn't bear to look, turning his head so that his eyes were shielded behind Albus's shoulder. It was difficult, Gellert felt like his heart was going too fast and his breathing too slow, but he had caught sight of the curtsy and would not be so rude as to ignore the greeting.  
  
"Hello." Gellert said, clearing his throat, making his German accent sound that much more ruff. Standing at Albus's side, no longer hiding behind him, Gellert inclined his head politely.  
  
Alice's smile widened slightly even with the awkward introduction. With less than a clue as to why the blond man seemed neglectful to greet her, he was still a friend of Albus's: and she was certain that Albus only had very good people as friends.  
  
"I hope that you're feeling better, Gellert," she said, saying his name slowly to make sure she pronounced it properly. "A walk would be lovely, yes!" Taking a few steps into the living room area of the suite, she set her small school satchel down on the coffee table before returning to the door and looking back to the men to make sure they'd be following her outside. "Have you had a nice day, Albus?"  
  
"It's been very good, thank you" he replied, striding to their front closet to retrieve a winter cloak for Gellert. He was pleased to find one in deep green, and spoke with Alice pleasantly as he crossed to hand it over to his friend.  
  
"And yourself? I trust school was as interesting as ever?"  
  
He and Gellert had always been able to read each others silences with ease, although the necessity to do so had been rare. A glance at his friend's fine-boned features confirmed Albus's feeling that Gellert might need a little time to compose himself before heading out. Asking Alice about her day would likely give them all ample time to dress for the outdoors.  
  
It was strange for Gellert to see Ariana,  _Alice_ , talk and move about with such ease, very much connected with this world, even though there was still something otherworldly about her. Perhaps that was innocence. Gellert pulled on the winter robe, still quite small, under the layers of fabric. He watched her speak, half expecting her tone to change for the worse, to throw a fit and rage, burning the hotel in such a fire that only Gellert and Albus, together, had the power to combat.  
  
Alice nodded slowly once, the action turning more vigorous for a couple more nods. "Oh yes, I really like the school here," mostly because none of the kids had been mean to her, or treated her as odd. As she'd never done studies with other children, it was very positive to her that her schooling in The Village had gone so well thus far. "We used computers today in our science class. Are there computers where you come from, Albus? Have you ever used one before? I thought it was very fascinating."  
  
"We do," Albus said with a smile, summoning his own winter coat from his room and buttoning it with his long, pale fingers. "Although wizards are usually not very proficient in their use. Perhaps one day you can show me how they work. Ready to go?" He looked from Alice to Gellert, encouraging him silently.  
  
Though Gellert was not a self conscious man, he was not certain as to how affectionate or close he was allowed to be with Albus in the presence of the girl. Keeping close, Gellert brushed his fingers against Albus's hand as they left the hotel room, allowing himself to be taken out for a walk.  
  
Observant as she was, Alice had not detected any sort of oddities in how Albus and Gellert acted around one another. She hadn't picked up on the fact that they might be involved with one another, as she simply hadn't thought of it. Under normal circumstances, she may have found it strange that Albus did so much for Gellert, seemed to speak for him, if the blond man hadn't been feeling unwell.  
  
Coat, scarf, and mittens still on, she walked out of the room. Smiling back at Albus, she answered, "Yes, I can show you what I know, although I'm probably not a very good teacher myself. Perhaps after using one for awhile I'll be able to show you more things. Do wizards not use technology very much?" It seemed to her that magic would be far superior than any technology.  
  
"We tend to rely on our magic, more than technology. Perhaps a little too much. If and when something goes wrong with our magic, we become quite helpless." Albus threaded his arm around Gellert's waist as they walked and locked their door behind them with a tap of his wand.  
  
Though Gellert appreciated the secure feeling of being held close, especially publicly (considering his usually very upstanding Victorian companion), he could not hold his tongue. Breathing out through his nose sharply, Gellert commented, "It does not make sense that any healthy, able-bodied wizard lose their magic. Magic is what makes a wizard." Technology was for those who hadn't the power, naturally, and therefore required gadgets, of someone else's design, in order to compensate.  
  
Alice cocked her to head in Gellert's direction. Her eyes grew a tiny bit wide at hearing the primarily silent man speak a couple of sentences, and she was trying to think deeply about what he had said.  
  
"A wizard can lose the ability to perform magic?" She asked, looking between the two young man as she had continually done since all three of them had been in the same room.  
  
"It's rare," Albus said placidly as they approached the elevators. Gellert still seemed far too drained for five flights of stairs.  
  
"But I have known one or two cases and heard of a few more. In all instances, the wizards and witches suffered disastrous and sudden separations from those with whom they were very much in love." Albus made sure that they were all safely in the elevator before allowing the heavy door to close. He seemed particularly interested in the surface of the doors themselves as he spoke.  
  
"In all but one case, the persons effected became terribly ill and passed away," he explained to Alice gently. "Rather akin to the muggle phenomenon of older married couples dying within a few weeks of one another, except the loss of magic ability is a severe symptom with our kind."  
  
As the elevator jolted into their decent, Gellert closed his eyes, trying to retain peaceful thoughts in his head. He knew full well what instance Albus was referring to, but thinking of Albus stripped of his magic was yet another depressing thought that Gellert did not want.  
  
Alice chewed on her bottom lip as Albus's explanation went on.  
  
"I overheard such a thing happening once. My mother and her maid talking were about an older couple that lived close to us, who both passed away very close in time to one another." With a short pause, she looked down at the elevator floor in serious thought. "It must be simply heart-wrenching to lose the person you love most in the world like that."  
  
"I like to believe, however," Albus said, his voice a little more buoyant than before, "that even the most resolute seeming obstacles are far from permanent divisions between two people with such a bond." The elevator came to a stop on the main floor, and Albus tightened his arm around Gellert's waist to steady him, still looking at Alice as he spoke with a small smile.  
  
"Love is a powerful force, enough to conquer what seems impossible: death, war ... and serious philosophical differences."  
  
A bell sounded and the doors parted smoothly.

*                    *                    * 

When Gellert first arrived, the magic shop looked more like a day spa, with all its candles and oils. That would change, immediately.  
  
Oh sure, candles, oils and perfumes had their place and their place was designated to the far wall, limited to two shelves.  
  
With that done, Gellert had the rest of the store to fill.  
  
Spending the day completely redecorating, Gellert designed floor to ceiling shelving units, some with glass coverings, or with wooden doors, while others remained open (intentionally left, permitting people to handle the merchandise). Behind the glass covered units were such items as crystal balls, ritual goblets, hour glasses, which were best left untouched until its future owner imprinted upon it. Closed behind closet sized wooden doors were reversible cloaks for all weather types and high-end or fancy dress robes.  
  
The remaining shelving harboured handbooks, text and theories on rituals or spells, among other more generic reference books which students would require. Enchanted art of fairies, merfolk, or animals lined the remaining bare spaces on the walls.  
  
A center table featured a game of wizard chess, enchanted to play itself. Nearby, pendants and rings for better dreaming, protection, or focus hung in a glass jewellery case. Wind chimes hung from the ceiling, which sung mellow or atmospheric tones as their lines blew in the breeze whenever the door opened. Large astronomical models, celestial globes, and telescopes filled empty places on the floor or by the storefront window.  
  
However, the most magnificent alternation to the magic shop would have to be the main display case, constructed of raw pieces of wood and gold. Though currently empty, Gellert had great plans for it. He was going to provide an essential service to the wizarding community. He was going to make wands.  
  
Cedric had seen the new activity in the magic shop and went to investigate. He was saddened by Lily's departure (ascension), though truthfully he'd not known her very well. The impact to his friends was clear, though, and a gloomy reminder that many of the people he knew could disappear without warning in the same manner.  
  
Opening the door, Cedric stepped inside and had a look around. The new owner had been busy, clearly, and the new look was definitely interesting.  
  
"Cedric! Welcome!" Gellert's young voice called to the boy who had first greeted him in The Village and had gotten him a pair of shoes. An arm came around Cedric's shoulders and Gellert began to personally guide him through the shop, "What can I show you? Let's see-" He tried to find something like polite boys like Cedric would like, "a telescope? Do you have one of these?"  
  
"I have a spyglass back home." Cedric said, looking at the telescope. "Well, I used to, anyway. It wasn't as nice as this one, though." His eyes looked around as they walked through the shop. "I could use an hourglass, certainly." He looked at Gellert, smiling. "You've certainly accomplished a lot in a short time."  
  
The boy didn't know the half of it, but Gellert just smiled at him. "Is there anything you miss from home? Something The Village hasn't provided for you?" He could get it or he could make it, in either case, the boy who first showed him a kindness in The Village should get something he liked, for himself.  
  
"Oh, not really, apart from people, of course." Cedric said. "I'm pretty well-set for things." He smiled. "I'll give it some thought, though." Cedric noticed the large empty case. "What are you going to put in there?"  
  
"Wands." Gellert said slowly, giving full weight and excitement to the word as his eyes twinkled, not unlike Dumbledore's when he was pleased. "I am going to make wands."  
  
"That's brilliant!" Cedric said, genuinely enthused. "I've been wondering what people here would do if they broke theirs. Did you know Mr. Ollivander, then?"  
  
Gellert sighed and shook his head, a curly lock of gold hair falling into his eyes as he did so. "Not personally, no. You could say I had a ... closer acquaintance with Herr Gregorovitch. Fascinating business, very interesting. Have you ever been curious, Cedric?"  
  
"Oh, certainly." Cedric said. "It's a very challenging area of enchantment, as I understand it. Very few have truly mastered the art."  
  
"And in rarity," Gellert nodded sagely, his eyes alight. "Lies great value, or so I have been told by some stuffy English wizard." He beckoned Cedric behind the counter, "Come darling Cedric, I will show you the plans if you would desire it."  
  
Cedric went a bit pink, that seemed to happen a lot around Gellert. "Of course- thank you." He moved to join the blonde behind the counter.  
  
A stack of six or seven heavy tomes flew from a shelf in the store and followed Cedric and Gellert into the back room, a large room that was just as well appointed and organized as the front. A large, handsome work bench stood in the center of the room with runes carved into the edges of it and in a glass case beside it, under lock, key and many protective wards were large glass jars similar to the ones that had populated Professor Snape's classroom, but the specimens within glowed, some moved, and the room was alight with their radiance.  
  
"The wood I am waiting to collect after speaking to a lady who is a noted expert in the area. Come, come, Cedric, look around, feel free. There is nothing here that can be broken." Not after the wards Gellert set.  
  
Cedric walked around, looking from one jar to the next with interest. "You have quite an assortment of core specimens." Gellert was clearly taking no chances, Cedric could feel the power of the wards quite strongly.  
  
He took out his own wand. "Apparently Mr. Ollivander was nearly skewered getting the strand of unicorn hair for this one. I hope you haven't had that sort of trouble."  
  
"Never." Gellert's usual charming smile faded to something a little more thoughtful, even critical of the famous English wand maker. "The core of a wand should be willingly given, found or harvested. Otherwise I would question its purity; if the host was in pain or angered when the sample was taken, then you might be dealing with an unstable core."  
  
"I've had no difficulties with it," Cedric said, "though what you say does make sense. Perhaps he underestimated the unicorn's reaction."

*                    *                    *

Even from the outside, the Magic Shop looked different under Gellert's influence. Its charming facade had become somewhat more enchanted looking, more alive. Albus pressed one finger to the outer doorjamb, smiling to himself as he felt the intricate spell-work Gellert had laden it with coursing through the structure like a pulse.  
  
The door opened for Albus, revealing a much more elaborately stocked and organized shop inside. The enormous overhaul of the interior made everything inside gleam under the gold light that seemed to come from nowhere at all.  
  
"These are-" Albus said, knowing Gellert would hear him no matter where he'd gone in the shop, "impressive renovations. Whatever did you do to occupy yourself after lunch?"  
  
Gellert walked out from the back room with an apple wedged in his mouth. "Ab-lsss" he mumbled, before taking a bite with a juicy crunch, grinning at Albus. "You found me!"  
  
Albus cast a wry look at Gellert, who had, no doubt, chosen that exact shade of apple to contrast with his skin as it did.  
  
"I am only across the road, Gellert, and though I'm still old, hardly infirm." Before the golden haired boy could claim credit for that, Albus caught view of the wall of books and all but apperated to them, scanning the titles from ceiling to floor, running a finger over some of the spines. "Quite a few older books in your collection," he smiled softly.  
  
"Classics! The best! Some are newer, revised editions ... but still retain the same, inspirational material!" Gellert almost beamed, thrilled to have Albus here, hoping for his approval. "Even a few ... you may recognize, as yours?"  
  
Albus laughed, not able to help blushing a little at Gellert's suggestion that he'd penned classics, and not a little at his proximity. "It's very sweet of you to do so, but I seriously doubt most people in The Village would be sincerely interested in my thoughts on the uses of Dragon's blood, ethics of animal transfiguration, and the implications of the Bridge Troll Wars of 1713 on modern day wizarding politics." He gave an elegant shrug of his shoulders, "But if you don't mind carrying a few books that won't sell, I suppose that is your right as a shopkeeper." As glad as he was that Gellert had chosen a profession, it was amusing to think of the hot-headed, brilliant blond as a merchant.  
  
"Do you like it?" Gellert asked, moving closer to Albus, following his gaze over the volumes of book titles.  
  
Albus was about to reply when a large book bound in blue leather with gold lettering caught his eye. He pulled it off the shelf quickly, looking it over in disbelief. "You've found the last volume of DeBrossart!? Despite my best efforts, I was never able to locate it! How in the world did you find this!?"  
  
"YES!" Gellert clung to Albus's robes with excitement, looking over his shoulder at the rare text with him, "It appeared along with everything else ... I'm not selling it ... though I wonder, if I sold it to you, another would appear?"  
  
"If you sold it to me-" Albus smiled, thumbing through the book quickly, scanning the pages through his half-moon glasses gleefully, "we would be assured that no matter what may befall the shop, we'll always have this."  
  
Gellert's eyes warmed and he took a moment to slip one arm around Albus's shoulders from behind. "Some things cannot be put to an end, no matter what ..." he murmured quietly, letting his words linger in Albus's ear before he pulled away, teasingly, and strode to the counter. "Very well. I shall sell it for one galleon ... but only to you."  
  
Albus felt the flash of heat through his veins surface just under his glasses, coloring his face. It was pitifully easy for Gellert to make him blush even after over one hundred years of regret and separation. He caught himself leaning back a little when Gellert slipped away, but covered his momentary loss of balance gracefully before joining the German boy at the counter with the book in his hands.  
  
"One galleon? Surely DeBrossart's last, lost work is worth more than that-!"  
  
Usually a daring man, Gellert hesitated for just a fraction of a second before he spoke. Albus's hair was falling just a little over one shoulder, and the flush across his cheeks made his eyes appear even bluer, impossibly so.  
  
"Very well, since you insist on my asking more for this volume-" he pretended to reconsider his asking price for a moment. "One galleon, and one kiss. My final offer."  
  
Albus had already retrieved the galleon from the pocket of his winter robes before Gellert had increased his asking price, and now it hovered over the counter, still in his long fingers, as gold as the other man's hair.  
  
Chairwizard of the Wizengamot, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Recipient of the Order of Merlin twice over ...  _and this wisp of a boy can still render me speechless with mere words_.  
  
Albus's head turned a little, glancing behind him, at the windows of the shop when he felt a hand on his cheek, Gellert's hand, always warm and light, turning his face back to him.  
  
"Albus ..." Gellert murmured, "there is no one else here, but why should it matter?" Gellert's green and gold eyes narrowed slightly before he sighed, running his thumb over Albus's lower lip. "This life, here, now this is yours, not theirs. Your last life, how can you say it was lived for you? Everything you did was for others, every choice, every sacrifice. But this-" Gellert smiled, not his usual, blinding, wild grin, but something softer and knowing, "is yours and I will not let you get away from it. Now, tell me. Yes or no?"  
  
The press of Gellert's thumb made Albus's heart race under layers of colorful robes. He pictured, quite easily, the way he might take a graceful step back with a diplomatic smile and levitate the book back to the shelf saying.  _'It's a fine edition indeed, but I'm afraid I've reconsidered. My most sincere apologies.'_  
  
He could picture doing exactly that with startling clarity, and yet his finger curled around the cover of the book as Gellert leaned closer, close enough that they were breathing the same air. There had been others, men and women in his younger days who had made offers and even advances, but Albus found it quite easy to sidestep them with a witty, tactful remark that left no room for doubt whatever they had in mind was simply not possible.  
  
"Gellert" he managed to say, nearly against the other man's mouth. "I think perhaps ... it would be best if ... we" his voice grew quieter with each word.  
  
Unsure and uncaring of who began it, their lips touched for a moment, making Gellert's rapidly beating heart seize in his chest. Two kisses in over one hundred years ... it barely sounded like enough to subsist upon, but Gellert could never imagine bothering with anyone else. He was stubborn, but also frighteningly patient when there was something he decided he would simply not go without.  
  
His own hands slipped into Albus's heavy, soft hair, actually shaking.  
  
Something Hagrid was fond of saying,  _best to be hanged for a dragon as well as an egg_  floated vaguely through Albus's now startlingly quiet mind, and he let himself step closer to Gellert as they kissed, not breaking it. One of his hands laid on Gellert's chest, and felt the hammering beneath. A smile curved Albus's lips, and their noses brushed. Any fear of someone seeing from outside faded away as Gellert's fingers wound in his hair and shook against the back of his neck.  
  
One of his arms found its way around Gellert's slender waist and the book fell to the floor with a loud bang, forgotten.  
  
Yes. Yes, this was what he wanted. He had been careful not to press Albus too often, he had delicate Victorian moral sensibilities, he did not want him unwilling. But this was what he had been waiting for. Kissing Albus. Kissing Albus and all but leaping into his arms. In his mind, they had accomplished this together; it was only the beginning. " _die Liebe ..._ " The Love. The Love of his life. His Love.  
  
 _The love of my life ..._  
  
A soft shiver passed down Albus's back at the sound of Gellert's words, surprised that the bittersweet pain he associated with remembering them did not come now, there was simply no room for it between them anymore.  
  
"Need I remind you," Albus murmured, not opening his eyes as he held Gellert close, their foreheads together, lips brushing as he spoke, "that we aren't technically alive anymore?"  
  
It didn't matter, they kissed each other again anyhow. Albus was quite happy to be the love of Gellert's life or death.  
  
"Shh." Gellert said to hush Albus, though decided it was best to just kiss him and keep on kissing him to keep his mouth occupied; from ruining it by thinking too much. Twisting his fingers in Albus's red hair, his lion mane, Gellert sighed happily, smiling against his lips.  
  
The moment their mouths touched again, Albus's mind cleared of all thought, which left the famously intellectual wizard with nothing but raw, irrational feeling, with the side of himself that Albus had locked up for over a century along with the wizard who had stirred them the most.  
  
Gellert's soft robes were thin and the warm curve of the small of his back was easy for Albus to feel as they held each other close, kissing him for what felt like hours. Whenever it seemed that they might stop, and pull away was just when Albus couldn't bear the idea, and pulled a very willing Gellert closer again, into another kiss. Indeed, the sun had long since disappeared before they both stepped back, shaken and happy.  
  
"Gellert ..." Albus murmured with his head on Gellert's shoulder, quietly, as though they were sharing a secret. "It's getting late." The usually composed wizard's long hair looked a little less brushed than usual, but he was beaming radiantly.  
  
" ... And your little friend will be home all alone, it's dark out, my shop is closed, you have work to do-" Gellert finished Albus's thought easily, brushing out the tangles in his long, auburn hair with his own nimble fingers.  
  
"And if we don't stop now we might do something too serious too soon which you believe was our downfall last time, though you don't want to say it out loud because you're sure I'll point out that we have waited for over a hundred years and then we'll start arguing back and forth and you'll end up kissing me again and that will utterly defeat the purpose. _Ja_?"  
  
Gellert kissed Albus again, briefly, before walking away and calling over his shoulder.  
  
"I'll get my cloak, we can argue on the way home!"

**Author's Note:**

> co-authored. originally written for thestralskinphoenixtears


End file.
